


The Missing Chapters

by Amethystina



Series: Autonomy [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Brainwashing, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mind Control, Multiple Personalities, PTSD, Space Opera, The usual Winter Soldier tags, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2018-12-21 11:52:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 34,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11943609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amethystina/pseuds/Amethystina
Summary: This is an anthology containing the chapters I wasn't able to include inAutonomy. Here you can find out what happens after the main story, but also glimpses of the events before and during it, from a different POV.These chapters are optional but cannot be read separately.





	1. The Shift

**Author's Note:**

> **The first three chapters were first posted at the end of the main story but I have now decided to give them and the rest of the bonus chapters their own fic. I apologise for the inconvenience.**
> 
> After several months and two hand-related injuries that slowed me down immensely, I give you the first bonus chapter for this ridiculously long space epic of mine. It's one of those I just knew I had to write, mostly because of the HUGE amounts of fluff. But also character development.
> 
> [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum) and [Sjazna](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sjazna) did the betaing — thank you, ladies — and this here is my [Tumblr](http://amethystinawrites.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> Enjoy, my lovelies — I hope you like it <3

 

* * *

 

Bucky wasn't sure why he was so nervous. There was no reason for him to be nervous. He had learned to trust Winter and knew that he would never do anything to jeopardize Tony's safety — or those stationed on the _Avenger_. Truth be told, Winter was probably less of a threat than Bucky at that point, considering his admirably firm stance on not using lethal force.

Despite this, Bucky couldn't quite calm his racing heartbeat. He knew that Tony could see how tense he was — the stiffness in his shoulders and how he clenched his hands, over and over, as if that would help release some of his anxiety.

"You don't have to do this, you know," Tony pointed out, arms crossed loosely over his chest. The light of the arc reactor was dulled by the dark sweater he was wearing — one that actually fit him, as opposed to the clothes he had borrowed from Bucky several weeks ago. "I'm sure Winter will understand," Tony added.

Immediately, Bucky felt a wave of calm acceptance from Winter, proving Tony right — but that only made Bucky feel worse. Winter might try, but he couldn't hide the disappointment lurking underneath all that well-meaning concern, at least not from Bucky. Winter _really_ wanted this, but he was too kind to make demands if it meant making Bucky uncomfortable.

"No, I..." Bucky closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I want to. I _need_ to."

He needed to know that he was able to voluntarily hand over control to Winter. It was a matter of trust and overcoming bad experiences from previous shifts, since all of them had been without Bucky's consent.

This time, he was going to do it willingly.

But the memories of being shoved aside, choice and control slipping through his fingers, were still vivid enough to give him nightmares. More than once he had startled awake, limbs shaking, with a helpless scream building at the back of his throat and panic curling in his chest.

The thought of not being in control — to willingly hand it over to someone else — was terrifying. HYDRA had taken what Bucky was and ruined it almost beyond recognition, shaped him into something else entirely, and he had been powerless to stop them. There were few things Bucky feared more than that.

So perhaps Bucky had every right to be nervous.

None of that was Winter's fault, however. He had earned Bucky's trust and he deserved the chance to be in control. Besides, they needed to know _how_ to shift, if there was ever a situation when Winter's expertise was more valuable than Bucky's.

The final choice lay with Bucky, however. Winter clearly felt no ownership over the body they shared and had made no attempts to influence Bucky's decision. He had only asked for the opportunity, shortly before the battle on the _Avenger_ , but never physically tried to take over since then. Bucky remembered that conversation all too well — Winter's vulnerability and shy, hopeful words.

Bucky _wanted_ to do this, both for his own and Winter's sake.

"You don't have to do it now." Tony's voice made Bucky open his eyes, their gazes meeting. Tony shrugged casually, though the small crease between his eyebrows revealed his concern. "Right this moment, I mean. Perhaps we've built up our expectations a little too much?"

They were standing in their shared cabin on the Avenger, facing each other. It was just the two of them — well, _three_ — since Bucky knew that Winter still wasn't quite comfortable in other people's presence. Winter wouldn't want an audience.

Steve had been informed of what Bucky planned to do, of course, though Bucky had also made it clear that it was best if Steve wasn't present. Winter might have gotten used to Steve by then — maybe even tentatively started to like him — but this was something else entirely. They would be disoriented and vulnerable, and Tony was the only one Winter trusted enough to be with them.

Bucky took another deep breath and shook his head. "No, it's fine." His voice was hoarser than he would like. "I wanna do it now." He attempted a smile, but judging by the pinched look on Tony's face the result was anything but comforting.

"Are you sure?" Tony took a step closer, his fingertips brushing against Bucky's arm. "Because you look like you're about to faint, and I doubt I'd be able to catch you if you did."

Bucky managed a real smile at that, though it felt strained. "Is that a crack about my weight?"

Tony snorted. "No, Buckling, it's a fact," he said, getting up onto his tiptoes to press a gentle kiss against Bucky's lips. "I tried it with Winter and fell flat on my ass. That arm of yours is heavy." A flicker of mischief sparked in Tony's eyes. "All that muscle isn't helping, either."

Bucky chuckled, which must have been Tony's intention. He raised his hand, fingers combing through Tony's tousled hair. It was more of a mess than usual, Tony having been too busy preparing for the war to get a haircut.

Not that Bucky was complaining — if Tony's hair was longer, that only gave him more to play with.

"Are you trying to distract me?" he asked, pulling Tony close, reveling in his warmth. They had been living in the same quarters for the past three weeks — ever since Tony returned to the _Avenger_ — but they hadn't had as much time together as Bucky would have wanted. There was always something to do and a new meeting to attend.

Once the actual war started — which wasn't more than a couple of weeks away, at the most — they would probably only see each other during missions.

Like Tony had predicted, Steve and Director Fury had indeed decided to create a specialized tactical team, so far dubbed the Avengers — to Tony's absolute delight. The Avengers would be the unit sent to infiltrate the HYDRA ships and capture or incapacitate the HYDRA officers.

Tony had accepted in a heartbeat and, after confirmation from Winter, so had Bucky.

They would be neck-deep in this war, and Bucky would be lying if he said that he wasn't trying to cling to Tony while he still had him within reach.

"Well, it's working, isn't it?" Tony replied, arm looping around Bucky's waist. His smile took Bucky's breath away. "I get why you're so determined to do this, Buckling, but you need to relax. You're upsetting Winter."

There was no way for Tony to know that, but he wasn't wrong. Winter was twisting uneasily, trying to shrink even further back, as if afraid to distract Bucky with his mere presence. They both knew that doing this — letting Winter have control — was more for Winter's sake than Bucky's. Considering the trauma involved, it might even be outright _bad_ for Bucky.

Somehow, that only made him more determined. Bucky would prefer to face his fears head on, reckless as that might be. Winter's comfort was just as important as Bucky's, and to ask him to live out the rest of their prolonged life at the back of Bucky's head was inhumane to say the least.

They both needed this, even if it might be difficult.

Bucky leaned down for a lingering, closed-mouth kiss, Tony humming contentedly against his lips.

"I'm fine," Bucky said once the kiss ended, stroking Tony's cheek before taking a step back. While he doubted that Winter would come up swinging, it might be best to put some distance between them. "Let's do this."

Tony nodded and retreated another step. He looked relaxed, arms hanging loosely at his sides and shoulders lowered, but Bucky knew him well enough to see the hint of apprehension in his eyes.

Winter, on his part, seemed almost ashamed of how excited he was. It was heartbreaking to see him want something so badly, all while trying so hard not to let it show — simply because he cared more about Bucky's well-being.

Winter's selflessness only made Bucky more determined to go through with the shift.

Despite his certainty, Bucky caught himself committing Tony's features to memory, as if he feared that he wouldn't see him again. That was ridiculous — Winter would never try to take Tony away from him. First of all, Winter only vaguely understood the concept of ownership and would never assume that he had a right to claim Tony as his own. Second, Winter was so convinced of Tony's greatness that he would feel guilty if he robbed someone else of all that brilliance.

Winter probably didn't even know what jealousy was.

That settled, Bucky closed his eyes and took a slow, measured breath. He had no idea how to initiate a shift — HYDRA hadn't exactly provided him with a manual — but he was fairly certain he and Winter could figure it out.

Bucky could feel Winter's presence at the back of his head, tentative but hopeful.

Before they met Tony, Bucky and Winter's interactions had been explosive, full of anger and distrust. They had barely been able to coexist, let alone get along. Since then, a lot had changed — Winter most of all. He was no longer snapping and snarling at anything even vaguely resembling a threat, and had learned about choice, responsibility, and life as a whole. Winter seemed happy, which was not a word Bucky would have used to describe him a couple of months ago.

Sometimes it was difficult to believe Winter was even the same person.

Bucky had changed too, and while they might have started out hostile and defensive, they had come to respect and care for one another. In all honesty, Bucky was surprised by his own willingness to share. He knew he didn't have to. He might have called Winter a parasite at the beginning — and Winter still was, technically speaking — but Bucky felt none of that initial animosity now. It was still odd to be sharing a body with someone else, but Winter took up less space than expected. More often than not, his presence was surprisingly soothing, and a reminder that Bucky wasn't alone.

Bucky's decision to accept Winter as a permanent fixture in his life was mostly due to compassion. He knew what it was like to sit at the sidelines, being cut off from the rest of the world, and he didn't want that for Winter. Bucky didn't have the heart to stifle all that curiosity and innocent wonder.

Besides, Bucky was notoriously bad at ignoring people who needed his help, and Winter could definitely be classified as one of those who did.

Winter shifted closer, sending a shiver down Bucky's spine. Usually, they mostly kept out of each other's way, so the decreasing distance was disorienting and, quite frankly, brought up several bad memories. It felt different this time, though, mainly because Bucky wasn't being pushed anywhere. He chose to retreat, even if it was trickier than he had expected.

Keeping his eyes closed helped, as did the slow, deep breaths he took. He tried to focus on nothing but his own heartbeat and Winter's steady presence.

Bucky had never been quite sure how it was possible for two minds to share a body like he and Winter did. Were there any differences between his brain and a non-assimilated one? Would a scan be able to detect Winter, or was he too complex — too entwined with Bucky — for that too be possible? Was it even physical, or merely psychological?

To Bucky, Winter felt surprisingly solid, though still not quite solid enough to touch. There was no resistance when their consciousnesses met and, if asked, Bucky wouldn't know how to describe the sensation. Both of them were undoubtedly there but, at the same time — in that exact moment — they weren't anything at all.

With a surprisingly painful jolt, Bucky realized that this was the closest he would ever get to touching Winter. Tony, who waited on the outside, could, but Bucky would never be able to. He couldn't grasp Winter's shoulder or ruffle his hair — not like he did with Steve. The only place where he and Winter could exist at the same time was within the intangible reaches of their shared mind.

Bucky would never be able to speak and have Winter reply with actual words.

Bucky faltered, grief cutting through the carefully maintained calm he had built. Winter responded immediately, alarmed and ready to pull back, but Bucky only pushed further, not wanting to start all over again — he could handle his grief later.

He felt the moment everything gave, like a tangled string unraveling, tugging them both along. The shift was slower than the forced ones they were used to, but once it started there was no way of stopping it.

For a second, everything seemed to spin. It felt like tripping in the dark, not knowing where he would land, causing a swoop of dread in his stomach. Bucky was suddenly weightless, falling. He knew he wasn't moving, not really, but it felt like it.

He sucked in a sharp breath.

There was a rush, his heart stumbling, and then—

Winter exhaled, eyelids fluttering. He focused on his breathing, eyes closed while Barnes settled into place at the back of his head. There was a tense silence before Barnes managed to send a faint wave of calm. Barnes had been very nervous and obviously still was — his reassurances were less convincing than usual. He kept twisting restlessly, as if he couldn't get comfortable.

Despite his own wishes, Winter gave Barnes a gentle nudge, offering to retreat again. They had never agreed on how long Winter would get to be in control, only that Barnes would attempt to switch places with him. Barnes had kept that promise and they now knew that a voluntary shift was possible — Winter couldn't ask for more than that.

After a beat of obvious indecisiveness, Barnes declined the offer — possibly out of stubbornness. It took another handful of seconds before he stopped squirming.

Only once Barnes had relaxed did Winter open his eyes, greeted by the sight of a worried Tony. Thankfully, Tony's concern was soon replaced by something much warmer.

"Hi there, snowflake," he said, smiling.

Winter's heart skipped a beat.

"Hi," he replied. Like always, Winter wasn't sure how Tony could tell the difference between him and Barnes — Winter hadn't even moved this time — but somehow he did.

"Nice seeing you again." Tony stepped closer, much more carefully than he would have with Barnes. "You okay?" he asked, smile still in place.

Winter nodded before daring to reach out, fingertips brushing gently against Tony's arm. Last time he had seen Tony, Winter had been bleeding on the floor. It was comforting to be able to touch him again — to reassure himself that both of them were really there. While Winter technically knew that already, seeing as Barnes and Tony had been spending a lot of time together since Tony's return, that wasn't the same. It felt less real when Winter couldn't touch Tony himself.

Distantly, Winter noted that Barnes was growing more and more calm, no longer on the verge of panic.

"So," Tony said, "everything intact? Hands and feet working?"

Winter wasn't sure why Tony asked but he dutifully raised his hands and wiggled his fingers. That made Tony burst out laughing, for some reason.

"Oh, snowflake, how I've missed you." Tony was grinning, eyes bright with laughter. "Never change."

Winter wasn't sure if he could promise that — he had changed quite a lot already — but there was something he was more sure of.

"I missed you too." Winter preferred when he was able to talk to Tony in person. He felt an excited flutter in his stomach whenever he had Tony's full attention like this. It made him feel special.

"Bucky doing okay?" Tony asked, voice light despite the hint of worry in his eyes.

Barnes sent a steady wave of reassurance, which Winter took as an affirmative. He forwarded Barnes' reply in the shape of a nod, and Tony's shoulders relaxed ever so slightly.

Winter was itching to touch Tony again — to offer some reassurance of his own — but he wasn't sure if that was a good idea. Tony had told him that he would tell Winter if he ever did something he didn't like, but what if Winter did _too much_? Barnes and Tony touched each other often, but that didn't mean that Winter was given the same privileges.

As was so often the case, Tony seemed to know what was bothering Winter without even having to ask.

"Hey," Tony said softly, making Winter look up. He had been staring at the faint light of Tony's arc reactor, barely visible through the clothes he wore. Without a word, Tony opened his arms in a gesture Winter had never been the recipient of before, but still recognized.

Tony was offering him a hug.

Winter didn't know what to do. He definitely _wanted_ a hug — he had already started raising his arms — but then he realized that he wasn't entirely sure how hugs worked. All he knew was that they involved a lot of squeezing, and that meant he might accidentally hurt Tony if he wasn't careful.

"You're overthinking it." Tony smiled, tugging on Winter's arm to get him to step closer. "It's easy, I promise." While he was speaking, Tony slid his arm loosely around Winter's waist and rested his head on Winter's shoulder.

The temptation was too much. Winter turned his head and buried his nose in Tony's hair, breathing in his scent. His arms moved on their own accord — or perhaps it was Barnes' muscle memory — wrapping around Tony's shoulders. That must have been the right choice considering how Tony burrowed closer, leaning more noticeably against Winter.

Hugging was both nerve-wracking and amazing. Winter decided that he liked it.

Tony's breaths tickled against Winter's neck, but he found he didn't mind. It was actually quite soothing. He closed his eyes, feeling at ease despite the rapid thump of his heart. He could hear the much calmer echo of Tony's heartbeat, right next to the humming arc reactor, and, slowly but surely, Winter began to relax.

When Tony eventually pulled back, Winter let out a small noise of complaint — never mind that Tony only went far enough to be able to meet Winter's gaze.

"See?" Tony said, smiling softly. "Easy."

In lack of actual words to reply with, Winter simply nodded. His arms stayed curled around Tony; it felt like they belonged there.

"So, guess what?" Tony said, his thumb rubbing circles against Winter's side. "I have a surprise for you."

"For me?" Winter tilted his head, not having expected that.

Tony grinned, eyes sparkling with fondness. "Yes, for you, snowflake. But it requires leaving the safety of this cabin, so it's up to you if you want it now or at a later time."

There was a flicker of concern from Barnes, but Winter ignored it. Granted, Winter was still a little overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people serving on the _Avenger_ , but he wasn't as frail as Barnes seemed to think. Winter wasn't afraid to step outside the door.

Besides, Tony would be with him.

"Now," Winter decided.

"That's the spirit." Tony pressed a quick kiss against Winter's cheek before taking a step back. "Come on, then." He laced their fingers together, tugging Winter along. Winter followed, feeling a small, tentative smile spread on his own lips at the sight of Tony's enthusiasm.

Tony led them out of their cabin, walking confidently along the by then familiar corridors of the _Avenger_. While the blood and dead bodies had been removed several weeks ago, there were still lingering signs of the battle that had taken place — marks on the otherwise smooth metal walls, repairs still being made to doors and broken machinery. Winter even saw one of the telltale dents left by Commander Rogers' shield, his fingers reaching out to brush against the notch as they passed.

Winter wasn't sure where Tony was taking him, but he wasn't worried. Tony's fingers were warm, holding on to Winter's as he lead them through the ship, offering the occasional nod to the people they passed. Several of them gave Winter curious looks, but he ignored the attention as best he could. He didn't know how much people knew about him and Barnes — about the fact that there were two people inside their body — but he assumed that Barnes was the more well-known one. Any attention was probably meant for him, not Winter.

They walked in silence — which was fairly unusual for Tony — and Winter soon realized that Tony was taking him to one of the hangars. Not the one where the General had been killed, but where Tony's as well as Winter and Barnes' ships were currently stored. Winter's curiosity grew, but he managed to keep it in check — if only barely. That seemed to amuse Barnes, but Winter could tell that he was just as curious.

Whatever Tony had planned, he clearly hadn't discussed it with Barnes first.

They reached the hangar and Tony entered the access code, the doors sliding open with a soft hiss. Tony turned to face Winter, grinning widely as he started walking backwards into the wide, open space, still tugging Winter along.

"Are you excited?" Tony asked, squeezing Winter's hand.

"Don't know yet," Winter replied, gaze wandering over the hangar. They were the only ones there, their footsteps echoing in the silence.

The two ships stood side by side, Tony's much bigger and fancier with its sleek lines and shining chrome. Winter and Barnes' ship looked small and battered in comparison, its plates dark and scratched, but Winter suspected that, if asked, Tony would prefer it over his own.

"This will all make sense soon, I promise." Tony led Winter to an open space on the floor, some distance from the looming ships and various crates full of equipment and supplies. There he let go of Winter's hand, backing up another couple of steps. "You're gonna love it."

Winter nodded, certain that Tony was right. He watched as Tony reached into his pocket and pulled out the earpiece he used to communicate with JARVIS. So the surprise required JARVIS, Winter deduced, but considering how much the AI could do, that still left a staggering amount of possibilities.

There was a growing tingle of excitement in Winter's stomach.

Tony put in the earpiece and grinned. "You with me, JARVIS?"

Winter couldn't quite hear what JARVIS replied, even with his heightened hearing, but Tony's responding glee was palpable.

"So!" Tony clapped his hands together, practically bouncing in place. "You ready?"

Winter nodded eagerly. Barnes was still curious, but most of all he radiated fondness — whether the emotion was directed at Winter or Tony was difficult to tell.

"Awesome. Hit it, JARVIS." The second those words left Tony's lips, a mechanical hum filled the air.

That was slightly worrying — Winter had no idea what to expect — and his eyes widened when _things_ started flying out of one of the nearby crates. For a split second Winter thought it was a threat of some kind, until he realized that he recognized that specific combination of bright red and gold.

It was Tony's suit.

One of the gauntlets arrived first. As soon as it connected, the metal plates started unfolding to envelop Tony's hand, the circle at the center of the palm lighting up with a soft whine. The other pieces followed, the assembly so smooth that it looked almost like the suit was melting onto Tony's body, inch by inch. Winter watched, mesmerized, as the suit took form to the clicks and whirr of working machinery.

The helmet came last, pale blue eyes lighting up the moment the gold faceplate slid into place. At the center of the suit's chest was the arc reactor, shining brighter than ever before. Without it, Winter wouldn't even have known that Tony was inside — in front of him stood something that seemed only vaguely human, all smooth, clean lines and polished metal. The suit looked impenetrable, and as magnificent as it was terrifying.

Winter wondered if this was what people saw when they looked at his arm.

A soft whirr came from the suit's joints as it moved, arms spreading wide. "So, you like it?" The voice was slightly distorted, but still unmistakably Tony's.

Winter swallowed before nodding. Barnes was equally impressed, stunned into awed silence.

"It's beautiful..." Winter replied. The narrow, glowing eyes were a little unnerving — as was not being able to see Tony's face — but the suit itself was amazing. There were so many intricate little parts, forming a breathtakingly complex whole.

Barnes was obviously in complete agreement.

The helmet folded back — Winter didn't quite manage to catch how — revealing a grinning Tony. Seeing that smile sent a jolt of delight straight to Winter's heart.

"I'm brilliant, I know." Tony took a step closer, his movements as sure and fluent as without the suit. "But, I didn't bring you here just to feed my own ego. I mean, showing you this—" Tony gestured at himself, "—is a pretty crappy surprise."

Winter blinked, tilting his head to the side. He thought it was a good surprise — he had been curious about the suit ever since Tony had showed him the disassembled pieces. The fact that Tony had chosen to let _Winter_ see the full suit before Barnes or Commander Rogers made him feel warm and tingly.

Tony smiled, holding out his hand towards Winter. "I distinctly remember promising to take you flying."

Winter's breath caught, excitement blossoming bright and eager in his chest.

"Only if you want to, of course," Tony added, but the look in his eyes said he already knew what the answer would be.

"I want to," Winter blurted out, perhaps a little too eagerly. Making decisions and admitting what he wanted was getting easier and easier the more often he did it. Winter nodded for extra emphasis, placing his hand in Tony's. For once, Tony's was the one made out of metal, while Winter's was all flesh. "I really want to."

The suit obviously made Tony stronger, allowing him to tug Winter closer without much effort at all. Tony was also taller, but Winter knew that already from when Tony had worn the boots during the battle against HYDRA. It felt strange to not have to look down to meet Tony's gaze.

"We'll have to stay inside the hangar, for obvious reasons," Tony said, "but that's okay, right?"

Winter nodded — that was more than enough. There was a steady flow of amusement from Barnes, but also warmth and happiness. He seemed eager to fly too, even if he wouldn't be experiencing it firsthand.

"You'll have to stand on my boot," Tony said.

The metal boots weren't made for that, Winter could tell, but he did as told. He could only fit one of his feet, but his balance was good enough to compensate for that. Tony wrapped one arm around Winter's waist to help steady him further, the grip tight but not uncomfortably so.

"You good?" Tony looked down, as if to make sure, before offering Winter a wide, happy smile. "Remember to hold on — I'm going to need my other hand to steer."

Winter obediently slid his arm around Tony's shoulders. It was difficult find purchase against the smooth metal, but he eventually managed to curl his fingers around a suitable edge.

"There. All set?" Tony asked. There was something more than just adoration in Tony's gaze — something warm and profound that took Winter's breath away.

Winter acted on instinct when he raised his free hand, carefully cupping Tony's cheek. Then, before he really had time to reflect on what he was doing, he leaned closer and pressed his lips against Tony's. It was nothing like when Barnes did it — Winter didn't think he would enjoy that kind of kiss very much — but Tony's lips were distractingly soft and he smelled of coconut and _Tony_ , which was more than enough to send a delighted shiver down Winter's spine.

He soon pulled back again, ignoring Barnes' stunned surprise in favor of licking his lips. Tony tasted very nice. Winter would have to do this again sometime, if Tony let him.

"I love you," Winter whispered, heart fluttering in his chest.

Winter was the first to admit that there was a whole lot about love that he didn't understand — it was a concept he knew mostly from the holovids Barnes had watched and what he saw between Barnes and Tony. Still, there was no better word to describe what Winter felt.

He loved Tony with all of his heart, and he was pretty sure that he would never stop.

Tony was staring, his eyes wide and lips slightly parted. Winter wanted to kiss him again, but figured it was better to wait until he had permission.

The silence lingered and Winter felt a twinge of doubt. "Did I do it wrong?" he asked anxiously.

Winter was sure that both Barnes and Tony had used those words, but he might have misunderstood.

"No!" Tony said hurriedly, shaking his head. "No, no, of course not. It was..." Tony let out a slow breath, gently bumping his forehead against Winter's, his smile soft and warm. "Perfect. It was perfect, snowflake."

Tony nuzzled Winter's cheek, the tickle of his beard making Winter giggle. He was pretty sure that he had never giggled before.

"I love you too, Winter." The sincerity in Tony's words made Winter ache with happiness.

Barnes maintained a discreet distance, resting quietly at the back of Winter's head — as if not to disturb. Winter had feared that Barnes would be angry with him for kissing Tony, but that didn't seem to be the case. He hoped that Barnes understood that whatever relationship Tony and Barnes had wasn't the same as what Winter wanted.

A slight squeeze around Winter's waist made him focus on Tony again, the bright, expectant spark back in his gaze.

"You ready to fly?" Tony asked, reminding Winter of why he was standing pressed up against Tony in the first place. The arc reactor was humming, shining bright at the centre of the suit's chest, casting a pale blue glow on everything it touched.

Winter took a deep breath and nodded, excitement bubbling in his chest.

"Ready," he said.

To be honest, it felt like he was flying already.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have missed Winter SO MUCH. My precious little snowflake <3
> 
> I have no idea when I'll be able to write and post the next bonus chapter, but I've already started plotting it out, so fairly soon, I hope. Take care until then!


	2. The Commander

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing has been extremely difficult for me these past eight months, due to various personal reasons. I've wanted to but simply not been able. Eventually, I grew tired of that and sat down to read through every single comment left on this fanfic — then I wrote this.
> 
> So to those of you out there who think commenting doesn't matter: here are ten tousand reasons why it does. And to those of you who DO comment: this is for you, my lovelies. I am forever grateful <3
> 
> This second bonus chapter takes us to before the main story, and a different POV. I hope you'll like it!

 

* * *

 

For the first time in about twenty years, Steve felt completely out of his depth. He hadn't forgotten the paralyzing fear of feeling helpless, but he _had_ hoped that he would never have to experience it again. He had _prayed_ that he wouldn't end up in the position he now found himself in, standing outside the locked prison cell.

The thick steel door had a window, wide enough to give him a clear view of the sterile room. Bucky sat on the primitive bed, back straight and eyes staring at the wall with the eerie blankness of a HYDRA soldier. He seemed completely unaware of his surroundings.

Steve didn't know what to feel, seeing Bucky again after so many years. He had almost started hoping that Bucky had died, since being assimilated was what most would consider a fate worse than death.

He didn't want this for Bucky.

Steve's arms were crossed over his chest, his teeth clenched tight — hard enough to ache. He was holding on to his composure by a thread, every instinct telling him to march into that cell and shake the vacant look from Bucky's face. Steve desperately wanted to see recognition in Bucky's eyes.

He knew it wasn't that simple, though. If it had been, HYDRA would never have grown to become such a big threat all those years ago.

The slow, careful breath Steve forced himself to draw hurt more than expected, his throat thick with emotion. He hadn't seen Bucky in thirty-eight years. Steve had always hoped that he'd meet Bucky again — that he'd be found, miraculously safe and whole — but for each year that had passed, it had seemed more and more unlikely.

This, right here, was the worst possible scenario.

Bucky had disappeared shortly before the end of the Great War, and after HYDRA's defeat Steve had thought that they wouldn't have a reason to still be collecting soldiers to assimilate. Steve had never been foolish enough to believe that the entirety of HYDRA went down with General Schmidt, but he had always clung to the belief that Bucky hadn't been caught — that he had been spared becoming a mindless puppet for the rest of his life.

Steve closed his eyes and swallowed, feeling a burn behind his eyelids. Losing Bucky had been one of the hardest things he had ever been forced to go through, and this wasn't easing any of his grief.

He wasn't sure if the man on the other side of that door really was his best friend.

Where had Bucky been, these past thirty-eight years? And what had he been doing? HYDRA had been gone for years, so who was tugging Bucky's strings? Steve feared the answer, considering where he had found him.

Steve's mission on Lamidoor VI had been of the diplomatic variety, where he was to oversee the tentative peace negotiations between two fractions involved in a civil war. Such situations were usually handled by the Alliance's trained diplomats rather than a military commander — as Director Pierce had pointed out — but Steve had argued the benefits of having the _Avenger_ posted nearby, just in case the situation escalated.

The last thing Steve had expected was to find Bucky on Lamidoor VI, intent on assassinating the royal family. He hadn't even known it was Bucky when he had started chasing down the would-be assassin — or when they had started fighting. There had been nothing in Bucky's body language that reminded Steve of the man he used to know. It had been like watching a completely different person — one who fought to kill without hesitation or remorse.

Steve had had no idea whom he was fighting until a well-aimed strike with the flat of his shield had made the mask covering Bucky's face fold back. Steve had faltered at the sight, unintentionally giving Bucky an opening to gain the upper hand. The fight had been brutal and Steve still wasn't sure how he had won. His thoughts had been spinning, confusion and hope and joy and fear blending together until he knew neither up nor down. He hadn't known if he dared to believe it — that Bucky was still alive after all these years.

Saying that was debatable, Steve had learned later.

There was no doubt that Bucky had been injected with the HYDRA virus. The small metal port at the back of his neck was proof enough, not to mention the enhanced speed, reflexes, and strength. Bucky also looked a lot younger than a man in his sixties should — much like Steve — and had the characteristic empty stare of a HYDRA soldier. Bucky didn't react or reply when spoken to. Hours had passed since Bucky woke up, but Steve still knew nothing about where Bucky had been the past thirty-eight years.

He wasn't sure if he _wanted_ to know.

Steve's gaze landed on Bucky's left arm, the metal plates glittering menacingly in the low light of the cell. Despite being far from a tech expert, Steve could tell that the prosthetic was expensive and carefully made. He didn't know when Bucky had lost his arm — perhaps during that final mission of theirs — or who had given him the bionic one in its stead.

There were so many questions.

Why was Bucky still active if HYDRA wasn't? Who had injected Bucky with the virus? Were they the same who had sent him to assassinate the Lamidoor royals?

Steve knew with certainty that Bucky hadn't made the decision to assassinate someone on his own — HYDRA soldiers never did. Even so, there was something different about Bucky. His gaze might be fixed straight ahead now, but it had been alert and calculating during their fight. His movements had held none of the slow, jerking quality of the common HYDRA soldier.

There had been enhanced HYDRA super soldiers during the war — Steve had faced one or two — but even those had seemed less present than Bucky, less sentient, somehow. Steve wasn't sure what that might mean, but it gave him a frail glimmer of hope that he intended to cling to with all his might.

He was well aware that there was no _known_ cure for the HYDRA virus, but that didn't mean there wasn't one — Steve just had to find it.

Steve would get Bucky back somehow.

"So, how is he?" Sam asked, his concern palpable even through the holo transmission.

Steve held back a sigh, settling for running a hand through his hair. "I honestly don't know. He's just... sitting there."

Bucky hadn't moved an inch during the night, or when Steve had slid in the breakfast tray two hours earlier. Despite his worry, Steve had decided not to risk stepping inside the actual cell. He had fought Bucky once on Lamidoor VI and he would rather not do it again — he couldn't guarantee that he would win a second time, or that the two of them would come out of it without any major injuries.

"How are the negotiations?" Steve asked, more out of duty than any actual interest. His priorities were elsewhere.

Sam had, graciously, offered to cover for Steve during the peace negotiations, allowing Steve to sneak Bucky away from curious eyes and the immediate influence of their superiors. Steve knew that he was technically disobeying orders — he had not been given permission to abandon his post on Lamidoor VI — but it was _Bucky_. Steve would do whatever it took to get Bucky back, including facing possible court marshal.

Thankfully, Sam had been more practical than that.

Steve didn't know what he had done without Sam, in all honesty. He had still been in shock while Sam — ever so efficient — had quickly and quietly ushered Steve and the then unconscious Bucky onto one of the _Avenger's_ prison transports and told him to hide. There were so many questions concerning Bucky's sudden appearance and his whereabouts these past forty years, but there was no doubt that no one could know that Steve had found him — at least not yet.

It wasn't safe, first of all — Bucky had already tried to kill Steve once, and had Steve been unaugmented he would no doubt have lost — but, more so than that, Steve needed a moment to gather his composure. He needed to figure out what to do next, since he wasn't sure if he wanted to hand Bucky over to the Alliance. Odds were that they'd put him in one of the prisons reserved for other HYDRA soldiers caught during the war and just leave him there to rot. Steve simply couldn't stand that thought.

There had to be something he could do.

"The negotiations are eventful," Sam replied, "but you shouldn't worry about that. What are you going to do about Bucky?"

Sam was one of the few who knew the whole story — how Steve and Bucky had grown up together and eventually fought a war together — but neither of them had been entirely prepared for Bucky to come back. Even if Steve had never stopped looking, he had also known that the odds of finding Bucky weren't that great.

Thankfully, Sam had adapted admirably well, even if the crease between his eyebrows showed his concern.

"I don't know," Steve admitted. He rested his elbows against the ship's console, his shoulders tense. "I've tried talking to him but he doesn't seem to listen." He shook his head. "He doesn't even recognize me."

"You know why, Steve. HYDRA soldiers are..." There was a brief silence, Sam gritting his teeth. His voice was low when he continued, but that didn't stop his words from stinging. "You know he's not the same person anymore. They never are."

Steve tried to ignore the clench in his chest — the knot of grief just waiting to unfurl. He knew that Sam was right, but he couldn't help but stubbornly cling to his hope that he could fix this somehow. He wanted Bucky back.

"He's not like the other soldiers," Steve said. "He's... more alive." There was no other way to describe it.

Sam sighed and rubbed a hand over his mouth. "Look, I'm not telling you to stop trying, just be careful. Can you promise me that?"

Steve's smile was faint, but Sam seemed to appreciate the effort. "I'm not sure if you would trust me, even if I said yes."

"It was worth a try," Sam replied, both fond and exasperated. His dark eyes were full of worry. "I'll keep the higher-ups off your back for now, but I'm not sure how many days you can remain MIA without anyone getting suspicious."

Steve nodded, infinitely grateful to have someone like Sam to rely on. "Thank you. I'm going to try and talk to him again. If he doesn't start responding soon I'll..." The words faded into nothing.

Steve honestly didn't know what he'd do if it turned out that he had found Bucky, only to be forced to accept that it wasn't really him anymore. A part of him would have preferred to just continue to live in ignorance, since having hope — no matter how briefly — hurt more than not knowing.

He wasn't ready to give up, though — not yet.

"Good luck." Sam's smile was sincere, but it couldn't hide the apprehension underneath.

Steve didn't blame Sam for feeling anxious. Bucky was undeniably dangerous and Steve was alone with him on a small ship, far out of Sam's reach. If Steve wanted to keep Bucky hidden, he had to be out of range of the _Avenger's_ sensors, but that also meant being a fair distance away from reinforcements, should he need them.

That was a risk Steve was willing to take, however, if it meant keeping Bucky out of prison.

"Thank you." Steve managed a smile in return, albeit a tight one. "Good luck with the negotiations."

Sam nodded before cutting the transmission. Steve remained where he was, arms resting against the edge of the console, staring blankly at the now black screen. He felt guilty for dragging Sam into this mess — having him lie to protect Steve could cost him dearly if the Council found out — but he knew he couldn't have done it on his own. He'd been far too disoriented to make any kind of rational decisions. Steve should be better than that — he was sixty-five years old and had been in the military for the majority of those years — but seeing Bucky had made him feel like a scared, scrawny little boy again, unable to make a difference.

Steve took a deep breath and ran his hands through his hair, pushing down the roll of dread. He couldn't allow himself to get distracted again. Bucky took priority, and Steve was determined get to the bottom of what had happened to Bucky in the past thirty-eight years.

He rose from the pilot chair and headed towards the cells.

Steve wasn't going to give up.

The Alliance's prison transports were state of the art, designed to keep most species safely behind locked doors — no matter their physical strength — and was therefore guaranteed to contain even an enhanced super soldier like Bucky. The second benefit was that the door frames to the cells were equipped with a force field, making it possible to have the doors open without allowing the prisoner to escape. This was so that one could speak to a prisoner without having to risk stepping inside the cell itself.

Bucky didn't react when the door slid open.

The force field was humming between them, glowing a faint purple. It didn't obstruct the view, though, and Steve wondered if he would ever be able to see that blank look on Bucky's face and not feel his chest constrict. It was more difficult to breathe than he would have liked.

"Bucky?"

There was no reaction — not that Steve had expected one. Ever since he had woken up, Bucky hadn't said a word and barely even moved. Steve wasn't even sure if he had blinked.

He needed to get Bucky to react somehow.

"Bucky, please. I'm trying to help you." Steve braced one hand against the doorframe, careful not to touch the force field. "Can you at least answer me?"

There had been awareness and intelligence in Bucky's eyes back on Lamidoor VI — more than Steve had ever seen in a HYDRA soldier — and he refused to believe that Bucky couldn't hear him. The question was why he didn't answer.

Steve gritted his teeth, holding back a frustrated sigh. He was tired — exhausted, even — after a night with no sleep, and even if the bruises from his fight with Bucky were long healed, Steve was aching. With everything that had happened, he felt raw and ill at ease — vulnerable in a way he hadn't been in years.

He closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath before he straightened. One thing everyone knew about HYDRA soldiers was that they responded to orders. Steve didn't like the thought of commanding Bucky to do anything, but it was worth a try.

"At attention, soldier."

Perhaps it was the words themselves or maybe it was Steve's tone of voice, but the reaction was instantaneous. Bucky rose from the bed, so swiftly that Steve barely even saw the movement, to stand at attention. His gaze was still fixed on the empty wall in front of him, but Bucky was clearly aware of what Steve was saying. That was a small victory, but it would have felt better if finding out hadn't required an order.

Steve swallowed down the bitter taste at the back of his tongue.

"Who sent you to Lamidoor VI?" Steve doubted that he would get any useful information, but that didn't matter — any kind of verbal reply would do. He just wanted Bucky to say something.

"A level eight security clearance needed," Bucky answered, his voice flat.

The accent was all wrong. Bucky had always spoken like they did on his and Steve's home planet, no matter how far away from it they had travelled, but this sounded nothing like it. These words were curt and precise in a way that Bucky's speech never had been. Steve didn't know how to react. Listening to Bucky had always been so comforting — a small piece of home, even if they were half a galaxy away — and Steve felt the loss more acutely than he thought he would.

Steve exhaled, pushing down his unease in favor of relief. Bucky understood him and was able to speak more coherently than most HYDRA soldiers — that was something.

A second later, Steve realized just exactly what Bucky had said.

He shifted a little closer. "Bucky, what security clearance?"

Within the Alliance, Steve held the highest, but he doubted that was what Bucky meant. So what organization was he referring to?

There was no reply.

"Answer the question, soldier," Steve persisted, adding more authority to his voice.

There was a brief moment of silence before Bucky replied, a little slower this time — as if hesitant. "The Asset has not been asked a question."

Steve frowned in confusion, but it only took a couple of seconds for realization to dawn. His stomach dropped. The only time he had received a reaction was when he _hadn't_ used Bucky's name. All the other times Bucky had remained silent and unresponsive — both now and the night before. Steve had kept repeating Bucky's name, hoping that hearing it would make Bucky react, but that seemed to have had the opposite effect.

There could be only one explanation for that.

"You're not him." Steve felt numb, even if he should have been prepared for this — Sam had warned him. "You're not Bucky."

"No." The reply was yet again firm and precise.

Steve swallowed, trying to fight down the panic. There had to be an explanation for this. Perhaps Bucky had been brainwashed not to refer to himself by that name anymore. As horrifying as that thought was, it still offered some hope — brainwashing was reversible.

Steve quickly silenced the part of him that asked if brainwashing really could change a person's mannerism, speech, and personality this drastically. Perhaps that was what the virus did. Despite years of extensive research, no one knew exactly what happened when someone was injected with the HYDRA virus.

"Who are you?" Steve asked, somehow managing to keep his voice steady.

There was no hesitation this time.

"The Winter Soldier."

Steve stiffened, his breath caught in his throat. He had heard of the Winter Soldier — most had, even if some believed him to be nothing more than a myth. Steve, however, knew the Winter Soldier was real. He had read the files and seen the grainy photos; he knew what kind of destruction was left in the Winter Soldier's wake. Steve wasn't stupid enough to ignore a potential threat simply because no one had caught the man yet.

Until now, if Bucky — or whoever he had become after being assimilated — was to be believed.

Steve's breath trembled as he tried desperately to cling to some sort of calm. That was easier said than done, considering everything that had happened recently.

This was getting more and more complicated by the second.

Steve stared unseeing at the wall opposite to his bunk. The cabin was small, especially for someone in his size, but he barely noticed. He was too busy trying to sort through the thoughts and impressions he had been bombarded with the past twenty-four hours.

There were some things he knew for certain.

First, the man locked inside that cell wasn't Bucky. Whether he had been brainwashed to believe otherwise or if it was because of the HYDRA virus was unclear, but that man was one hundred percent certain that he wasn't Bucky Barnes, no matter how much Steve wanted him to be.

Second, that very same man was the Winter Soldier. Steve knew HYDRA soldiers couldn't lie. They didn't always speak the truth — if they had been told a lie, that was what they, in turn, told — but they were incapable of fabricating answers. They only replied with the information they had at hand. So either someone had _convinced_ this man that he was the Winter Soldier, or he was. Considering how the man fought, Steve chose to believe the latter.

Third, he was still no closer to getting Bucky back, and Steve was beginning to wonder if that was even possible.

In the years that had passed since the war, Steve had read everything he could get his hands on concerning the rehabilitation of captured HYDRA soldiers. He had wanted to be prepared in case something like this happened — if Bucky came back to him with that blank gaze and expressionless face.

Nothing Steve had read had offered any answers, however, only theories. No one knew what the virus did to its victims, especially since it left some catatonic while others were able to speak simple phrases. It wasn't as simple as a lobotomy — thought that was one of the leading theories — and Steve had a feeling that Bucky's behavior only complicated things further.

Bucky was aware of his surroundings and capable of speaking longer sentences based on his observations. He had taken the initiative — however carefully — to point out that he couldn't follow orders and answer a question he hadn't been given. Other HYDRA soldiers didn't do that — they didn't know _how_. Bucky displayed a level of intelligence that was unusual in a HYDRA soldier, which had given Steve hope that Bucky was still in there somewhere.

Now he wasn't so sure.

Steve sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He wasn't sure of anything anymore.

He desperately wished he could talk to Peggy, but she was at the other end of the galaxy. Few things could calm him the way talking to Peggy did. Even if they had agreed to end their romantic relationship over thirty years ago, she had remained one of his closest and most trusted friends. The decision had been mutual, made mostly to spare them both the pain of Peggy growing old while Steve didn't, and because they were both far too explosive to remain in a relationship with each other. The separation had been excruciating the first two years, but they eventually moved on — Peggy more so than Steve.

There were times when he was outright jealous of what Peggy and Angie had together — their comfortable, homey apartment, their children and grandchildren — but he never wished them anything but happiness. Maybe one day he would find the peace of mind to settle down as well, but it hadn't happened yet.

Whenever Steve needed to talk about the war, Peggy was the one he turned to. She had been there too, after all, and she had seen him just after he had lost Bucky. If anyone could soothe his nerves, it was Peggy.

Except Steve couldn't risk contacting her, not unless he wanted the Alliance to intercept the transmission and find out where he was hiding. Holoing Sam was one thing, since they could use secure frequencies only available to the Alliance, but a long-distance call to a private home was a gamble — one Steve couldn't afford with Bucky's freedom on the line.

Somehow, Steve would have to handle this without Peggy's advice.

Steve had briefly wondered if he would have to start worrying about Bucky not eating, but after that first conversation he was slightly more cooperative — as long as Steve didn't call him by his name. Steve wasn't sure what else to call him, though, since he refused to believe that Bucky was gone forever. Brainwashing could be reversed and Steve would be damned if he gave up on Bucky now.

Bucky still spoke sparingly and only replied to direct questions. More than once, Steve was hindered by his apparent lack of security clearance — especially when he tried to ask who Bucky was working for. It wasn't quite like dealing with a prisoner of war, since Bucky seemed compelled to reply to everything that was phrased like an order or a demand, but he still managed to avoid revealing any pertinent information.

Steve was more and more surprised that Bucky had admitted to being the Winter Soldier, seeing as he didn't reveal anything else about who he was and where he came from.

Most of the time, Bucky referred to himself as 'The Asset,' which was unsettling enough that Steve didn't feel comfortable using it. Frustratingly, no matter how hard he tried, Bucky still didn't react to his own name. He didn't seem to know Steve except as a Commander of the Alliance — which was common knowledge — and none of the things Steve told him, be they old memories or facts about Bucky, seemed to have any impact.

It was like talking to an entirely different person.

Even so, Steve couldn't stop hoping that the old Bucky would emerge at some point. He was beginning to realize that he didn't have the necessary training and knowledge to accomplish that, however. Sam, on the other hand, might know of someone who did; someone who worked with victims of brainwashing and knew how to counteract it. The difficult part would be to keep it under the radar, since Steve couldn't let Bucky fall into the Alliance's hands. If the Council found out that Bucky was the Winter Soldier they wouldn't care that he hadn't been acting out of his own free will and simply have him imprisoned.

Steve couldn't allow that, not when he had finally found Bucky again. No matter what it took, Steve would make sure that Bucky got a second chance.

Next time it was safe to holo Sam, Steve would ask him who he should contact to help with Bucky's recovery.

There was still hope.

Bucky seemed incapable of relaxing. He always stood or sat ramrod straight and spoke stiffly and mechanically. Even after two days there was so sign of his posture softening or a flaw in that expressionless mask of his. That could probably be attributed to him being imprisoned, but Bucky didn't seem uncomfortable. He ate when food was served and seemed to sleep when it was convenient, even if he did so sitting up.

Steve felt guilty about keeping Bucky locked up but, at the same time, he knew better than to trust him. This wasn't Bucky — not entirely, at least — and there was no guarantee that he wouldn't attack if Steve let him out. This person Bucky had become after the brainwashing was a lot more ruthless than the one Steve had known.

More often than not, Steve spoke to the old Bucky — or tried to, at least. He refused to talk to the asset or the soldier — he wanted Bucky. It didn't seem like he would be able to reach him, however, and Steve only got more and more frustrated. He knew most of it was due to fear, but he tried his best not to acknowledge that.

There had to be a way to save Bucky. There _had_ to be — Steve refused to give up.

Even so, he couldn't help that his distress got the better of him when he once again stood on the other side of that force field and Bucky refused to talk to him.

Steve slammed the palm of his hand against the doorframe, hard enough to sting. "Why won't you answer me?" he snapped, despite knowing that getting upset wouldn't help.

Steve was supposed to be better than this.

Seconds passed before Bucky even seemed to realize that Steve was talking to him. "I reply when asked a question or given an order—"

"Not you," Steve gritted out, jaw tightly clenched. "I mean Bucky."

A heavy silence, followed by a hesitant question. "Who is Bucky?"

"You are." Steve swallowed. "Or at least used to be."

For the first time in two days, Bucky's gaze flickered to meet Steve's. The contact was brief — like a stolen moment, breathless and frail — but Steve noticed. His heart started beating faster.

"No," Bucky replied, back straight where he sat on the narrow bunk. He sounded confident this time. "I am the Winter So—"

"You might be now," Steve interrupted, his patience running thin. "But you haven't always been the Winter Soldier, have you? What were you before that?"

Bucky's posture got, if possible, even stiffer, his gaze fixed at the opposite wall. There was a slight crack in the near-perfect blankness of his expression, showing that _something_ was happening inside that head of his. Steve was getting to him.

Hope sparked, sending a jolt straight to Steve's core.

"Do you remember growing up?" Steve asked, shifting closer to the doorway, one hand braced against the frame. "People aren't just born fully grown, you know that, right? So what do you remember? Do you remember being young?"

Bucky's gaze lowered to the floor in a sign of vulnerability that Steve welcomed. He didn't enjoy seeing Bucky uncomfortable, but he had finally found a kink in Bucky's armor — something that reached beyond that vacant façade.

"I... don't," Bucky replied, still staring at the floor. The words were almost low enough to be called a whisper.

"Exactly. That's Bucky." Steve forced his voice to remain stable. "That's the real you — the one you were before all this."

A breathless silence hung in the air. Steve couldn't be sure if this was good or bad yet, but his words were clearly causing a reaction of some kind.

"You were Bucky, before you became the Winter Soldier."

"No." Bucky sounded more confused than anything. "I wasn't."

"Yes," Steve persisted, "you were. You must know that there's something missing — your childhood, where you grew up, what made you what you are. You must have those memories somewhere. You used to be someone else."

Bucky shook his head — the biggest physical reaction so far that wasn't because of an order Steve had given. "No," he said, but he sounded less certain than before. He was unraveling.

"Then how do you explain your memory gap?" Steve asked. Bucky had never spoken this much in one single instance before. He wasn't sure what had changed, but Steve wasn't going to let the opportunity pass him by.

No reply came, Bucky's gaze fixed on the floor in front of him. A small frown cracked the indifferent mask he had worn so far, making him look more human than a HYDRA soldier should be able to.

"Come on, Bucky," Steve said, close to pleading. "I know you're in there."

Bucky raised his gaze, catching Steve's with an almost frightening intensity.

"The other one," Bucky said, with something that sounded like dawning realization. "He's Bucky."

Steve wasn't sure exactly what Bucky meant, but he nodded all the same. "Yes, he's Bucky. Bucky Barnes."

"Then who am I?"

The question gave Steve pause. There had been an unexpected hint of desperation in those words — a flash of frailty that was both unusual and unnerving — and he didn't know what to reply. It had sounded as if more was at stake than simply making Bucky remember who he had been before all this.

There had been genuine confusion in that sentence — a plea for answers.

Steve didn't have time to give any, however, since whatever inner turmoil his words had caused, it was clearly enough for Bucky to decide to put an end the conversation. Had Steve not been so focused on every little thing Bucky did, he might not have noticed how he clenched his hands, or how the expressionless mask slipped back into place.

That was the only warning Steve got.

Bucky got to his feet and was on the other side of the force field with two long, purposeful strides. When he drew his arm back, Steve instinctively retreated a step and fell into a defensive position. Bucky didn't hit the force field, though — that would only have sent him flying across the room — but the wall next to the doorframe. There was a deafening clang when metal hit metal, and even though he couldn't see it, Steve knew there had to be a sizeable dent in the wall. For a split second Steve wondered what Bucky was doing, until he realized _where_ on the wall Bucky had punched.

The cell was almost impossible to break out from. The door frame was reinforced, the force field strong enough to repel anything thrown at it, and the walls themselves — though not impossible to dent — were too thick to punch through.

Bucky didn't have to break through the wall, however — not if he got to the wires of the control panel. The box itself might be on Steve's side of the door, but the circuitry was inside the wall, and if enough force was applied on one or both sides, it might cause a malfunction that made the force field collapse.

Usually, that wouldn't be a problem since the door was still strong enough to withhold the prisoner, but Steve had left that open. He wasn't sure if the failsafe put in place in case of power outages — which closed and sealed all cell doors — would apply when the wiring was crushed from the inside.

Steve dove to manually close the door, but he was a fraction of a second too late.

Bucky's second punch connected with the wall and the control panel went black, just as Steve's fingertip brushed against it. The force field fizzled away with a hiss, leaving behind a silence that seemed to ring in Steve's ears. The precision with which Bucky had broken out of the cell was alarming, and Steve couldn't help that he felt a sting of dread.

He knew what would happen next.

Steve ducked the first blow, if only barely, and quickly backed away from the now open doorway. Bucky stepped over the threshold, face blank and eyes cold as he charged at Steve again. With some effort, Steve was able to deflect the flurry of blows and kicks that followed.

They were more or less a match when it came to speed, but Bucky had the advantage of his metal arm. Steve knew from experience that each hit from that was hard enough to break bones. Last time his shield had saved him from being injured too severely, but Steve hadn't expected to be pulled into a fight — his shield was in his cabin.

He should have known better than to assume that the cell would hold a super soldier — especially one that was clearly a lot more intelligent than any other HYDRA soldier Steve had met.

The corridor outside the cell was far too narrow to fight in. It was difficult to dodge Bucky's attacks when Steve didn't have room to move, and he couldn't bring himself to hit back, either. Steve didn't want to hurt Bucky, even if refusing meant that he took a heavier beating. He focused on avoiding or deflecting the blows instead of retaliating, but he was far less successful than he would have liked.

Bucky was ruthless. He neither flinched nor hesitated, not even when his right fist connected with the wall instead of Steve's face, leaving behind noticeable dent. Steve knew that Bucky must have broken at least one bone is his hand, but he didn't even seem to register the pain — he just kept going.

There was no stopping him.

A kick connected with Steve's knee and he stumbled, biting back a hiss of pain. Bucky didn't give him time to recover, the next blow landing against Steve's ribs. His back hit the wall with enough force to knock the breath out of him — or perhaps that was his aching ribs — but he managed to block the next attack.

Steve desperately tried to figure out how to get out of this situation without killing either of them. If implying that Bucky had been someone else before this was what had set him off in the first place, pleading for him to stop wouldn't help. Steve didn't know what else to do, though. He was too far away to call for help — not that he had the time or opportunity to do so — and Steve wasn't sure if he could knowingly hurt Bucky, especially when he wasn't in his right mind.

"Bucky, you—"

His words cut off when metal fingers reached for his throat. Steve couldn't shy away with his back pressed against the wall, so he grabbed Bucky's wrist instead, twisting his arm outwards. He held on, hoping to slow Bucky down, but he still had his right hand free.

"Bucky, stop. You ne—" Steve quickly ducked his head to the side, Bucky's knuckles connecting with the steel wall behind him. A roll of nausea spread through Steve when he heard a sickening crunch, knowing it had to have come from Bucky's hand.

Steve was panting, his ribs sore, but he managed to catch Bucky's right wrist as well. Bucky didn't seem to care that his hand was a bloodied mess, tugging sharply to get free.

"Please stop. You need to stop." Steve struggled to hold on, quickly blocking the knee aimed at his groin. "Bucky, stop!"

Bucky didn't seem to hear him. Surprisingly, there was no anger in his gaze, just calm, focused determination. That was somehow more eerie than anger would have been, since it made Steve fear that this really wouldn't end until one of them was dead.

He should have expected the headbutt that came next. The force of it made the back of Steve's head slam into the wall behind him with a jarring crack. His grip around Bucky's wrists loosened, but Steve was too dazed to do anything about it.

This time, he wasn't fast enough to stop the cold metal fingers from wrapping around his throat.

Steve braced himself against the wall, ready to push back, until he realized that the fingers weren't actually squeezing. They rested against Steve's skin, tight enough to cause his pulse to beat a little faster from the adrenaline, but not nearly enough to hurt. Bucky had frozen, staring straight at Steve with something akin to confusion. That eventually shifted into surprise, quickly followed by panic.

One moment Bucky had his hand wrapped around Steve's throat, and in the next he had flung himself back, slamming into the opposite wall. A noise — a pained, cracked whine — escaped from Bucky's lips before he seemed to crumble in on himself, fingers tangling into his long hair while his knees buckled.

Steve didn't know what to do. A part of him wanted to rush forward and help, but he wasn't sure how. Not to mention that he could feel the taste of blood on his tongue, his nose still aching from the headbutt; he couldn't be sure it was safe.

Then Bucky started screaming.

Steve flinched at the sound, filled to the brim with pain, fear, and desperation. He found that his own safety mattered very little when Bucky was screaming like that. Two hurried steps and Steve was kneeling next to Bucky, carefully placing his hand between Bucky's shoulder blades. Bucky was hunched over, his entire body trembling, while the agonizing, terrified screams kept echoing in the narrow corridor.

In the end, Steve didn't know what else to do but wrap his arms around Bucky and hold on. He wasn't sure if he was making any kind of difference, but it was better than nothing.

It took almost a full minute before Bucky stopped screaming, and he did it so abruptly that Steve only felt more worried. The silence barely had time to settle before it was broken by a soft, half-choked sob. Neither of them moved. Then Steve heard Bucky's breath hitch, followed by a heartbreaking whimper.

"S-Steve?"

Steve's heartbeat echoed loudly in his ears, his arms automatically tightening around Bucky, hoping to offer comfort.

Another sob, both exhausted and relieved. "Steve..."

Steve didn't know what had just happened — what had made Bucky stop and why he had been screaming — but this was without a doubt his Bucky, not the Asset.

"Steve?" The name sounded more like a plea than anything else — a desperate mantra Bucky wanted to repeat over and over. Bucky's voice wobbled, his shoulders shaking. "S-Steve?"

"Shhh," Steve soothed, finally able to make his tongue work. He ignored how hoarse he sounded. "I've got you. It's okay."

Steve knew things weren't okay — not yet, at least — but they were heading in the right direction.

"I've got you," he repeated, hugging tighter when Bucky shifted to bury his face against Steve's shoulder, helpless, hitching sobs wracking through him. Hands gripped Steve's shirt, clinging with enough desperation to leave a lump in Steve's throat.

He closed his eyes, holding Bucky through the sobs and the shakes, finally allowing himself to acknowledge the steady trickle of relief. Bucky was back. He was clearly in pain — which Steve hated — but he was there.

Right in that moment, Steve couldn't ask for more than that.

"So, there are two of you?" Steve asked, trying not to let his disbelief show.

Bucky was sitting opposite to him in the small mess, staring blankly at the table, seemingly unable to meet Steve's eyes. His shoulders were hunched under the blanket Steve had insisted on giving him, his eyes red from crying, and was carefully cradling his splinted hand against his chest. Bucky looked so vulnerable that Steve had to fight an urge to reach out across the table and hug him.

After he had stopped crying, Bucky had become nearly catatonic. It was nothing like the trademark blankness of a HYDRA soldier, but rather what had to be both emotional and physical exhaustion. So Steve had done what he could. After gently coaxing Bucky up from the floor he had bandaged his hand, steered him to the mess, and presented him with something hot to drink.

The coffee now stood cold and forgotten on the table, completely untouched.

Steve had wondered what to say to get Bucky to talk to him, but, in the end, he hadn't had to say a word. The entire story had simply started tumbling out of Bucky as soon as Steve had sat down opposite to him. It had seemed like Bucky just couldn't keep it all in — as if he had to tell someone about everything that had happened before it drove him mad. His voice had cracked more than once as he told the story, but he had stubbornly kept going until he was finished.

Steve had listened patiently throughout it all, biting back anger and horror alike. He had heard Bucky speak of the assimilation, the torture, the indoctrination, and being forced to spend thirty-eight years helpless to stop the creature in control of his body. While Steve _had_ realized that the Bucky he knew wasn't the one he had been talking to, he hadn't expected to hear that it was another person entirely — something created by the HYDRA virus. It made sense, though, Steve had to admit, considering how little he had seen of Bucky in the asset's body language and speech.

Still, it was a lot to swallow.

The news that HYDRA was still active — no matter on how small a scale — was devastating. Bucky was certain that it was the same HYDRA they had fought during the war, and Steve saw no reason not to trust him. Bucky had seen more of the inner workings of the organization than Steve had, even if it had been in glimpses.

That was one of the few saving graces. Bucky said he hadn't been forced to watch _everything_ the Winter Soldier had done, but he had clearly seen enough to be consumed by guilt.

"It's still there," Bucky whispered, eyes squeezing shut. "The virus." He flinched, as if in pain. "I can feel it. It... it keeps trying to take over."

Steve held back a shiver. He couldn't even imagine what it had to be like, having an intruder inside his own head like that.

"You're in control now," Steve said, not sure if his words helped or not.

Bucky shifted, clearly uncomfortable, and his left hand went to rub the injection port at the back of his neck. That was no doubt going to become a nervous tick, but Steve couldn't blame him. Both the prosthesis and the injection port were reminders of what HYDRA had done to Bucky — parts of him that he was now forced to carry for the rest of his life.

"For how long?" Bucky's voice was soft, close to cracking.

"You're stronger than the virus," Steve said. Bucky's eyes were tired and glassy when he looked at Steve.

"Am I?"

Steve leaned closer, hoping his sincerity would lend Bucky some stability. "You fought it off and won. I know you won't let it have control again. You are stronger than that."

It took a couple of seconds before Bucky nodded. He didn't look happy, though, back to staring at the tabletop.

"We'll figure something out," Steve reassured, but he had a feeling it must have felt like empty words to Bucky. He reached out across the table, feeling a rush of relief when Bucky only hesitated for a brief moment before settling his metal hand in Steve's. Holding it felt strange, but Steve wasn't afraid. He squeezed Bucky's fingers, managing a faint smile. "We'll find a way to cure it somehow. I promise."

Again, it took a couple of seconds before Bucky nodded, his throat bobbing.

"Yeah. Okay." He nodded again, more frantically that time. "Yeah."

It sounded more like desperation than hope, but Steve would take it.

Bucky spoke even less than the HYDRA parasite had. He communicated only with nods and shakes of his head if he could, and spent most of his time staring off into space, curled up next to one of the few windows found on the ship. As expected, he kept tracing the injection port when he thought Steve wasn't looking, and stared down at this metal hand as if he still couldn't believe it was a part of him.

Sometimes, without warning, he would flinch and curl in on himself, his breaths turning labored as he struggled against the virus. Steve's heart ached every time he had to watch it happen, knowing there was nothing he could do. Bucky always came out victorious, but he looked more and more tired each time, slowly cracking around the edges.

"He needs to heal. Give him time," Sam told Steve when he explained how concerned he was, but that was easier said than done.

The blankness he saw in Bucky now was more frightening than the one caused by the HYDRA virus. Bucky was _suffering_ , but neither of them seemed to know how to make it stop.

Thankfully, Bucky's hand was getting better — much faster than average thanks to his enhancements — and he let Steve help him change bandages without flinching or nervously moving out of reach. He did that sometimes, especially the day after a particularly bad nightmare. Only once had Steve tried to help during one of them, drawn to Bucky's cabin by his terrified screams, but his presence only seemed to make Bucky feel worse. Not being able to help broke Steve's heart, but his first priority was Bucky well-being, so he kept his distance when needed.

The days seemed to blend together, passing in almost complete silence.

Neither of them spoke of what would happen next — Steve wasn't even sure if Bucky was able to think that far ahead. At some point they would have to return to civilization, if only to get more supplies. Remaining hidden simply wasn't an option.

Steve chose not to bring that up yet, however. He didn't want to put more pressure on Bucky than necessary. For now, the most important part was that Bucky felt safe and calm enough to start healing. Steve didn't care if it took months or years — he would give Bucky as much time as he needed.

The problem was that the Alliance would want Steve to return to them sooner or later, and Sam couldn't be expected to cover for him for more than another week or two. Sam was already doing more than enough by handling the negotiations on Lamidoor VI in Steve's stead.

Steve had no idea how he was supposed to be able to juggle his duties as commander and being there for Bucky — while at the same time making sure that the Alliance didn't get their hands on his best friend — but he would find a way. He always did.

Three weeks after he had regained control, Bucky was doing better. He no longer startled at every sound and had taken to spending more time with Steve than he did alone. The nightmares continued, Steve could tell, and Bucky often forgot to eat unless Steve reminded him to do so, but he seemed a little more relaxed. That was relative, of course, but Steve would cling to whatever signs of improvement he could find.

Steve was so caught up in Bucky's recovery and attempts to regain his confidence that he was completely blindsided when the moment arrived — perhaps because it was earlier than expected and took a form he didn't particularly approve of.

"I should go back."

Steve looked up from his dinner, frowning in confusion. "What?" He blinked in surprise when Bucky's gaze rose to meet his. Bucky initiated eye contact very rarely nowadays, and only when he was being particularly sincere.

"I've been thinking." Bucky licked his lips, glancing off to the side before focusing back on Steve. "I should go back to HYDRA."

Steve froze, panic gripping his heart. "No. Absolutely not."

"Steve, I mean it," Bucky said, dropping his fork. "In all these years, we've never been able to infiltrate them. But I could do it. They'd let me in."

Had the situation been different, that would have been a tempting offer, but with Bucky as unstable as he was — only just found after an agonizing thirty-eight years — Steve couldn't let him. It was far too dangerous.

He shook his head. "No."

Bucky frowned, leaning closer. "You know I'm right, Steve. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. How often have you run into someone who has deflected from HYDRA?"

The answer to that, of course, was never. No one escaped HYDRA, and that was precisely why Steve didn't want Bucky anywhere near them. Bucky _had_ escaped. He was free. But if he returned, even just to gather intel, there were no guarantees that he would make it back out a second time.

"It's too dangerous." Steve could tell that his words were far too harsh, but he couldn't help it. The fear was getting to him.

"I don't care!" Bucky snapped, raising his voice for the first time since he had regained control. He hadn't spoken this much since he'd told Steve about being assimilated. "This isn't your decision to make. I _need_ to go back."

Steve swallowed the lump in his throat. "Why?"

Bucky faltered. He averted his gaze, his hand straying towards the injection port. Bucky always tried to hide the small metal disc behind his hair, but considering how often he kept touching it, Steve never forgot it was there.

"I need to..." Bucky swallowed, lips pressed into a thin line. "I've done so many horrible things. I need to—"

"That wasn't you." Steve knew he shouldn't interrupt, but he couldn't stand the thought of Bucky blaming himself for what had happened. He hadn't been in control — he hadn't killed all those people who had fallen victim to the Winter Soldier. That was the parasite, not Bucky.

"It was me," Bucky persisted, jaws clenched.

"No, it wasn't. You weren't even in control at the time, so how—"

"I could have fought back earlier!" Bucky's eyes were blazing when he met Steve's gaze, anger and self-loathing swirling around in their depths. His hand clenched into a fist where it lay on the table, whirring softly as the metal places shifted. "I shouldn't have been such a coward. I-if I had just fought harder, none of this would have happened. All those people wouldn't have had to die."

Steve's chest seemed to constrict, but he made sure to maintain eye contact.

"Bucky, it wasn't your fault."

Bucky looked away, refusing to reply. They clearly had to work on that, but Steve was going to make sure that Bucky knew he wasn't to blame for that the Winter Soldier had done.

The following silence was heavy enough to make Steve uncomfortable. He knew he couldn't expect things to be exactly like they had been before the war — both he and Bucky had changed — but he wasn't used to things being this awkward between them.

"I'm going, Steve, whether you want me to or not." The words were fierce, holding enough of Bucky's special brand of determination to make Steve's breath catch. "I need to do this."

Steve tried desperately to find the words that would make Bucky understand that he didn't have to put his life at risk because of his guilt. This wasn't his fault.

"If you were in my shoes, you would do it," Bucky said, voice softer.

Steve looked up, his stomach twisting — he couldn't deny that, not without lying. He didn't want to lie to Bucky.

After a slow, careful breath, Bucky continued. "You wouldn't care about your own safety. You would do what's right."

"Bucky—"

"This is the right thing to do, Steve." Bucky's jaw was clenched tight, his gaze firm and unafraid for the first time in three weeks. "I need to do this."

As much as Steve could understand Bucky's conviction, he still wasn't prepared to give in just yet. He trusted Bucky — implicitly — but there was no telling what might happen if he returned to HYDRA. Bucky would have no one there to protect him, and he would be in a constant battle with the presence inside his head. While Steve genuinely thought that Bucky was stronger than the parasite, it would no doubt be more difficult to hold it off in that kind of environment, especially since Bucky was still unstable.

Steve didn't like those odds. Sending Bucky back to HYDRA as a spy was definitely not an alternative he even wanted to consider, but Steve had a feeling that he would have to agree, sooner rather than later. Partly because of Bucky's determination and partly because they were running out of time.

Sam had told Steve just the other day that the negotiations on Lamidoor VI were wrapping up, and he was already being briefed on his next mission. This one would take him to the other end of the galaxy, far away from Steve and the _Avenger_ — possibly for months to come — so he couldn't expect Sam's help anymore. That meant Steve had to come up with a new plan soon, which he still hadn't been able to. He didn't know how to keep Bucky close while at the same time keeping him out of the Alliance's reach.

Bucky's plan was, objectively speaking, the wiser one, but Steve knew he couldn't be objective when it concerned his best friend's life. He just wanted Bucky to be safe.

"We'll see," was all Steve replied, not surprised when he rewarded with a stubborn glare from Bucky.

Seeing it made him feel pretty nostalgic, even.

In the days that followed, they argued about Bucky's wish to return to HYDRA more than once. Steve was far too concerned about Bucky's health to agree, and Bucky was too wracked with guilt to stop insisting. Each time the subject was brought up, Steve felt just how quickly time was slipping through his fingers. Sam would be leaving soon, meaning that Steve had to go back, and he knew he couldn't bring Bucky — not yet. Bucky argued that if he left to rejoin HYDRA, Steve wouldn't have that problem to begin with.

They had to decide what to do, and they had to do it soon.

In the end, Steve surrendered only because he started fearing that Bucky would leave no matter what he said, and it was better for him to have Steve as a lifeline than be completely on his own.

Steve couldn't help worrying, though. He had only just found Bucky after so many years of searching for him, and now he might lose him again? The thought was unbearable.

"I'll come back."

Steve wasn't ashamed to admit that he startled at the words. Bucky was standing in the doorway to Steve's tiny cabin, making it appear even smaller. Ever since deciding he would go back to HYDRA, Bucky seemed to stand taller, his shoulders squared with determination and purpose.

Steve didn't have the heart to force him to stay — not when Bucky seemed to need the redemption so much.

"Okay," Steve replied, looking back down at his hands. He was sitting on his bunk, elbows braced on his knees. Understanding why Bucky had to leave didn't make it any easier to see him go.

Steve shifted to make room when Bucky walked over and sat down next to him, mirroring Steve's position. Neither of them spoke, the moment far too frail for that.

"There's a ship on Lamidoor VI that I can use," Bucky said softly, after several minutes had passed. "We— _the parasite_ used it a lot, so I know how to fly it."

There was nothing Steve could reply to that, so he remained silent.

"The... mission on Lamidoor VI failed, obviously," Bucky continued, staring down at his feet. "But that has happened before. They won't be suspicious. They won't know I'm not..." A tense shrug finished the sentence.

Steve sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't like it, Buck."

"I know. And I understand why you don't." Their gazes met, Bucky's apologetic but determined at the same time. "I'm not suicidal, Steve. I don't actually want to die yet. I just... I can do this. I know I can. Just imagine how many lives it would save."

Only after letting out a slow breath did Steve find the strength to reply. "I know. I worry, that's all."

Seconds passed, slow, agonizing ones, before Bucky gently bumped his shoulder against Steve's.

"I'll come back, I promise."

Steve closed his eyes and nodded. "Okay," he said, even if he wasn't sure if it would be that easy.

The mission was beyond dangerous, and if Bucky was exposed, odds were that he wouldn't be able to escape. He had assured Steve that he had seen enough of the parasite's interactions to be able to pose as the Winter Soldier, but that was less comforting that Bucky seemed to think. Steve didn't want him to go. He had already lost Bucky once, and he wasn't sure if he could go through it a second time.

Bucky leaned closer, until their shoulders touched, Bucky's arm warm and solid against Steve's. Even if the gesture was simple, it offered a surprising amount of comfort.

"I'll come back," Bucky repeated. His determination seemed to grow each time he said it, and Steve forced himself to uncoil — to let Bucky make this decision after having spent so many years not being able to make any at all.

Steve had faith in Bucky. He always had and always would.

If Bucky said that he would come back, then Steve believed him.

Watching Bucky leave two days later, heading back to the monsters who had tortured and brainwashed him, was still one of the hardest things Steve had ever done. He would never forgive himself if anything happened to Bucky, but it was true that it wasn't for him to decide how Bucky chose to make amends.

All Steve could do was cling to Bucky's promise that he would return and hope for the best.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously, Steve was talking to Winter there at the beginning, though it wasn't exactly the sweet and cuddly little snowflake we get to know later. But yeah. If you ever wondered how Steve and Winter's first meeting went down, this is that. This is actually the first time I've written Steve's POV. Imagine that. And yes, Sam was always in this universe, but he's off on a mission during the events of the main story, but he DOES return and will eventually join the Avengers.
> 
> Also, if you're interested in some additional info about this world of mine, [there's a post on my Tumblr](http://amethystinawrites.tumblr.com/post/142750708272/autonomy-additional-data) where I explain more about the virus, the birth of HYDRA, the Alliance etc.
> 
> [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum) and [Sjazna](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Sjazna) did the betaing, and you should all go give them some love. They're amazing, both of them <3


	3. The Infiltration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for the third bonus chapter! I've gotten several requests on what to include in these chapters, and I've done my best to incorporate as many of them as possible. This here contains some updates about the war, more on Winter and his growth, and some hurt/comfort.
> 
> Have fun, my lovelies ;)

 

* * *

 

Bucky dodged the poorly coordinated blow from the HYDRA soldier and retaliated with one of his own, careful not to punch too hard. The man stumbled, eyes blank, and Bucky quickly grabbed the disoriented soldier's arm. He reached for one of the detainment bracelets attached to his belt and slipped it around the soldier's wrist. As soon as the lock snapped shut, the man went limp and slumped to the floor.

The way the soldiers collapsed — as if the strings controlling them had just been cut — would never stop being unsettling.

Bucky still didn't know exactly what the bracelets did — Tony and the other scientists refused to tell him — but it had something to do with vibrations. The technology was new, based on whatever Tony had found in the data Bucky had stolen from HYDRA, and made for the single purpose of making it easier to detain the assimilated soldiers. So far, they had been extremely helpful.

Out of curiosity, Bucky and Winter had tried one on — just to see if they could figure out what it did. Bucky hadn't felt any different aside from an odd hum that had seemed to echo through his bones, but Winter had gone silent — terrifyingly so. Even after Bucky had scrambled for the keys and gotten rid of the bracelet, it had taken Winter minutes to regain his bearings.

He hadn't been hurt, thankfully enough, but viewed the bracelets with distrust ever since.

"Let's move." The words were almost drowned out by the loud alarm blaring overhead.

Bucky looked at Wilson — the newest addition to their team — before nodding. The corridor they were in was pretty much deserted, save for the two guards that had been posted outside the control room to Bucky's left. Both soldiers now lay on the floor with neat metal bracelets slipped around their wrists.

Wilson started jogging down the corridor and Bucky followed, trying to listen for threats up ahead. It was difficult, though, with the alarm throwing his hearing off-balance.

The mission hadn't gone quite as planned. Then again — their missions rarely did.

The Avengers were supposedly a stealth unit, but not all of them knew the meaning of subtlety. So while they _had_ managed to infiltrate the HYDRA space station without being noticed, it hadn't taken long before someone had sounded the alarm. In all fairness, the team had never failed one of their mission, but they weren't great at sticking to Steve's carefully laid plans, either.

Had Steve been any less stubborn, he would probably have given up on them weeks ago.

This time, the Avengers were searching for one of HYDRA's higher ranked officers — a man named Wolfgang von Strucker. The Second HYDRA War had been raging for a little over five months, and while the Avengers were making headway, there was no immediate end in sight.

In those five months — after a total of eleven missions — Bucky had finally gotten the hang of being part of a team again. He wasn't sure when he had forgotten how, but he blamed HYDRA. None of the things he and Winter had been taught were really suitable for working within a group and those lessons were difficult to unlearn.

They were trained to be a ruthless, efficient assassin — not part of a stealth team.

Sometimes, like when partnered with Wilson — someone Bucky didn't know all that well, even if he was apparently friends with Steve — he had to remind himself who his allies were. Tony and Steve were easy since Bucky would rather cut off his right arm than hurt either of them, but the others took some time getting used to.

It wasn't that Bucky disliked or distrusted his team, but almost forty years of conditioning was difficult to break. HYDRA had trained him and Winter to be a one-man army, and their instincts were different than that of soldiers like Steve. Bucky and Winter were used to finishing the mission no matter the cost, which included leaving allies for dead if necessary — or disposing of them personally, should they prove a hindrance.

It was different with the Avengers. There was loyalty, concern, and fond teasing; the banter in particular was a lifeline. Steve might try to keep the comms free of chatter, but something always — inevitably — got Tony or Barton going, and after that everyone else usually decided to join in. To Bucky, the extra voices in his ear weren't a distraction — they were what kept him grounded.

Listening to his team reminded him of who he was, where he was, and who he was fighting.

Bucky and Wilson turned a corner, finding themselves in yet another deserted corridor. Their footsteps echoed against the barren steel walls, but not much could be heard over the shrill alarm.

"That was a close call, Hawkeye," Tony suddenly said over the comms, words teasing.

Bucky held back a smile — the sound of Tony's voice would never stop being comforting to him. Winter seemed to agree, a low, steady purr emanating from the back of Bucky's mind. As usual, Winter stayed out of the way during missions, not wanting to take part in them if he could avoid it.

"If you're so worried about getting hit, stop flying into my arrows, metal man," Barton replied without missing a beat. There was the familiar sound of gunfire in the background — from the HYDRA soldiers, no doubt — and the high-pitched whine of Tony's repulsors.

Tony sighed dramatically. "How many times do I have to tell you? My call sign is _Iron_ Man, not metal man."

"Sounds the same to me," Barton shot back.

Steve suddenly cut in, disapproval clear in his voice. "What have I said about chatter on the comms?"

Bucky couldn't help snorting. "Honestly, if you want them to stop, _you_ should stop pairing them together."

He was rewarded with a bright laugh — one Bucky would recognize anywhere — and he felt a flutter in his chest knowing he had caused it.

"He has a point, my dear Commander," Tony said, but he quickly switched gears before Steve had time to complain. "But, while I have you, I think I know where Strucker is."

The moment they had infiltrated the space station, Tony and JARVIS had started working on breaching HYDRA's security system and locating their target. Unsurprisingly, HYDRA had changed all the passwords and improved their security since the war broke out, but they were still no match for Tony and JARVIS's combined efforts.

Bucky didn't even try to hide the burst of pride he felt, mirrored perfectly by Winter.

"Where?" Steve demanded to know.

"Floor 3, Sector 12," Tony replied. "Considering the size of the room and recorded energy usage, I'd say it's a lab of some kind."

Bucky threw Wilson a glance, who nodded. Neither of them stopped running.

"We're on the right floor," Bucky reported. "And just passed Sector 5."

"Copy. Iron Man, how sure are you that Strucker is there?" Steve's voice was firm despite the sounds of a scuffle in the background. Bucky wasn't concerned — Steve had Widow guarding his back.

Winter might still be suspicious of Romanoff, trusting her only as far as he could throw her, but Bucky quite liked her efficiency and deadpan humor. Besides, Steve didn't seem to doubt her dedication to the cause, so neither did Bucky.

"Seventy-three percent." Tony paused. "No, make that ninety-two. There are a disproportionate amount of soldiers inside that room."

"The corridors on this floor are pretty much deserted," Wilson confirmed. He was sounding a little out of breath, and Bucky subtly slowed his pace. He kept forgetting that not everyone he worked with was enhanced. Only Bucky and Steve were, as a matter of fact, but Romanoff somehow managed to seem more superhuman than they did on some days.

"Everybody, head for Sector 12. Don't engage until the rest of us get there," Steve ordered. There were scattered confirmations from the rest of the team. "And Iron Man, could you please shut off the alarm?"

"I thought you'd never ask, Commander," Tony replied sweetly. "Give me a sec."

As promised, the alarm soon cut off, and Bucky almost sighed from relief. His ears were still ringing, but at least he didn't have to brace himself for the constant noise anymore.

He and Wilson slowed down to a jog, not wanting to arrive to their destination ahead of the rest of the team. In the next corridor they were momentarily distracted by four patrolling soldiers, but dispatching them was easy, even if the space was too narrow for Wilson's wings. He was a skilled fighter with or without them.

Breaking into HYDRA ships and facilities was becoming somewhat of a routine. Unless they came in great masses, the HYDRA soldiers were relatively easy to deal with — especially with the new bracelets — and overpowering the few officers in charge was never a big challenge. The difficult part was to find the coordinates for their next target, but Bucky was never a part of that process. Most of the time, he was content to simply go where Steve and Tony went.

Once the four HYDRA soldiers had been given detainment bracelets, Bucky and Wilson continued towards Sector 12.

"We've reached the door and taken out the guards," Barton reported, just as Bucky and Wilson turned down the last corridor. "Tin man is working on getting it open."

Bucky felt himself relax when he caught sight of the bright red and gold of Tony's suit. He knew that out of all of them, Tony was the most well-protected — he could even get sucked out into space and keep breathing thanks to the suit's oxygen converter — but Bucky was still nervous every time he and Tony had to go their separate ways during a mission.

Winter was clearly in agreement, though he was careful to keep his relief as quiet as possible.

"One of these days I'm going to start calling you Sparrowpeeper," Tony said, but Bucky knew the offended tone was mostly for show. Tony _loved_ bickering with Barton.

"What? That doesn't even—"

"Widow and I will arrive within two minutes," Steve cut in, firmly enough to cause a rather abrupt end to the conversation.

The moment Bucky and Wilson reached the door, Bucky instinctively moved to stand next to Tony. Had Tony been able to feel it through the metal of the suit, Bucky might even have reached out to run a hand along his arm. The need to be close was difficult to resist sometimes, and it was always heightened by Winter's added protectiveness.

"Hello, Buckling," Tony greeted, not looking up from the panel he was working on. His faceplate was down, so it wouldn't have made much difference, Bucky supposed. The suit whirred as Tony's hands moved over the tiny screen, the sound familiar and oddly comforting. "Everything intact, my dear?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Bucky replied, a soft smile spreading on his lips. He ignored the over-exaggerated eye roll Barton gave them and instead focused on the thick steel door blocking their way. "What can we expect on the other side?"

Tony shrugged — Bucky would never stop being fascinated by how accurately the suit could convey Tony's body language — and replied, "Roughly thirty HYDRA soldiers by my count, plus Strucker and a couple of lower officers." His voice always sounded a little different when coming through the suit's speakers as opposed to over the comms, but not so much that Bucky couldn't recognize it.

"I'm guessing we've lost the element of surprise?" Wilson asked, using the momentary lull in activity to check over the stun guns he was carrying.

In reply, Barton nodded towards the security camera aimed straight at them. Wilson pursed his lips.

"We'll be fine," Tony said. "It's nothing we haven't done before."

Tony had a point, but Bucky could still understand Wilson's concern. Thirty HYDRA soldiers were enough to make anyone nervous, especially when they were under orders to incapacitate, not kill. That was a good thing, of course — the more lives that could be spared, the better — but Bucky couldn't deny that it was more difficult to fight a war when not allowed to use lethal force.

Knowing that the HYDRA soldiers wouldn't be giving them the same courtesy didn't exactly help.

"Hah!" Tony exclaimed triumphantly. "There we go. I'm ready to open the door once you arrive, Commander."

"Give us a couple of seconds," Steve replied.

"Roger that," Tony confirmed. Bucky held back a smile and occupied himself with dragging the limp guards Tony and Barton had incapacitated away from the doorway, hopefully out of the line of fire.

True to his word, it didn't take long before Steve and Romanoff came jogging down the corridor and joined the rest of the team waiting by the door. Romanoff seemed a little out of breath, but Bucky certainly couldn't fault her for that — keeping up with Steve was no easy feat, and she managed better than most.

"What's the plan?" Barton asked, bow resting comfortably in his hands. Bucky still wasn't sure why Barton favored a bow of all things, but he would never dream of openly criticizing him for it. He had seen the man shoot — Barton's aim was flawless.

Tony cut in before Steve had time to reply. "The ceiling is high enough for flying."

"Good. Iron Man, Falcon, go high and locate Strucker — detain him if you can. We want him alive." Steve received twin nods from Tony and Wilson. "The rest of us will focus on the foot soldiers. I'll take point."

Steve usually did — even back during the Great War — and Bucky had to admit that it made strategic sense. Steve, unlike the rest of them, had an actual shield; he would be able to protect those behind him.

Everyone got into position.

Despite the tension in the air, Bucky's heart beat with a calm, steady rhythm. His training had taught him not to let the adrenaline take over, no matter how dire the situation. If there was one thing that threatened to break his concentration, it was the feel of metal fingers closing around his, giving a comforting squeeze. Tony maintained the grip long enough for Bucky to reciprocate, then let go.

Bucky exhaled, clearing his head while waiting for Steve's signal.

The moment the doors slid open, Bucky allowed his instincts to take over.

As Barton had predicted, the HYDRA soldiers were expecting them. Tony and Wilson took off the split second before the first shots were fired, soaring past overhead. There was the familiar whine of a repulsor blast, but Bucky soon had other things to worry about than keeping track of Tony.

It was easy to fall into the rhythm of battle — especially with the others at his side. While it might have taken Bucky several missions to get used to their presence, he was grateful to know that someone had his back.

Bucky had always worked well with Steve — he remembered many of the maneuvers they had used during the Great War — and while Romanoff's style of fighting was different from Bucky's own, her way of thinking was similar enough that he could predict most of her movements. Barton was the one Bucky rarely had eyes on, since the archer had a tendency to stay back and find high ground if possible, but Bucky was never worried. Not once had one of Barton's arrow come close to hitting one of his allies, no matter what Tony said.

The Avengers had gone through enough team exercises to work almost seamlessly together.

There was no time to stop and snap on detainment bracelets this time, so Bucky had to incapacitate the HYDRA soldiers through other means. The stun guns they had all been equipped with helped, but that method wasn't foolproof. Unless the soldiers were knocked unconscious or made physically unable to rise, they would always get back up again.

Pain didn't stop them, and neither did fear of further injury.

"I've found Strucker," Wilson reported a couple of minutes into the battle. "He's hiding behind that big machine by the south wall. He's got guards — I can't get to him."

"I don't think he's hiding behind the machine, actually — I think he's using it," Tony said, a hint of concern in his voice. "I'm not sure what it does, though."

"Find out," Steve ordered.

Bucky threw a quick glance in the direction Wilson had indicated, but couldn't see much above the heads of the soldiers he was fighting. He'd paid very little attention to what was actually inside the room and focused more on fighting the swarm of HYDRA soldiers.

Tony had been right about it being a lab, huge machines with glowing screens and blinking lights lining the walls. Metal walkways were suspended above their heads and Barton had, somehow, found his way up onto one of them.

"Hawkeye, do you have a visual of Strucker?" Steve asked, his shield singing through the air.

"I can see him," Barton replied, firing off an arrow into the chaotic fray of HYDRA soldiers and fighting Avengers, "but I can't get a clear shot."

Barton, like the rest of them, was equipped with weapons meant to incapacitate rather than kill, but Bucky supposed it would have been too easy to take Strucker down with nothing but a stun arrow.

Through combined efforts, the Avengers were slowly but surely thinning out the HYDRA soldiers' ranks. Bucky kept fighting, narrowly dodging a shot from one of the soldiers before Romanoff was able to shock the man unconscious with one of her Widow Bites. Romanoff gave Bucky a playful wink, then turned to the next soldier.

The familiar, high-pitched whine of firing repulsors told Bucky that Tony was close — soaring somewhere above his head — and the musical chime of Steve's shield wasn't far away, either.

"Commander, I think I've figured out what the machine—" Tony sucked in a sharp breath. " _Shit_."

"What?" Steve began, "Iron M—"

"Wilson!" Tony barked, his voice sharp over the comms. "Land! Right now!" He spoke quickly, alarm and urgency making his words difficult to catch. "Bucky, when that thing goes off, your arm—"

The thing went off.

A loud crackle and boom sounded, followed by a shockwave that nearly knocked Bucky off his feet — the HYDRA soldiers were less lucky, falling over and into each other. Bucky only had a second to survey the chaos before a sudden spike of excruciating pain brought him to his knees.

The stun gun clattered to the floor while Bucky gasped for breath, trying not to scream. Winter snarled in anger and it took Bucky far too long to realize that the waves of agony lashing down his spine actually originated from his metal arm. He reached for it with his right hand, fingers numb and fumbling. Whatever that machine had done, it was bad.

Bucky's head snapped up when he caught a movement in the corner of his eye, and his heart skipped a beat when he saw Wilson plummet out of the sky like an injured bird, his wings crackling.

Desperately, Bucky looked for Tony, choking down a panicked noise when he found the flying red and gold suit — just in time to watch the repulsors cut off. Bucky's breath caught, his heartbeat echoing loudly in his ears, drowning out everything else. He stared, helpless, for what he knew couldn't even be a second, but felt so much longer.

Then the moment was over, sounds rushing back.

Tony fell.

"TONY!" Bucky stumbled to his feet, urged on both by his own fear and Winter's terrified screams. He was running before he had even regained his bearings.

He had to get to Tony.

The HYDRA soldiers were slowly getting to their feet, sluggish and disoriented, and Bucky couldn't see where Tony landed with them in the way. He certainly heard it, though — a loud clang that echoed through the room, the floor shuddering with the impact. Dread was festering in the pit of Bucky's stomach, his throat tight. He shouldered past the nearest soldier, not even bothering to knock her out. A sharp crackle a second later told him that Barton or Romanoff had taken care of it.

Every move Bucky made caused another sharp bite of pain in his left arm, but he barely noticed, too focused on getting to Tony. Barton was helping him clear a path and Steve was shouting something over the comms, but Bucky couldn't hear the words over the sound of his own panicked heartbeats and Winter's screams.

When Bucky finally fell to his knees next to the motionless suit, the first thing he noticed was that the arc reactor wasn't glowing. Winter thrashed, howling with rage, but Bucky felt the fear hiding beneath it — the crushing, breathtaking fear of what that dark circle meant.

"Tony? Sweetheart, can you hear me?"

There was no reply.

Bucky fumbled for the release hatch that would unfold the suit's helmet, not even caring what was happening around them. He thought he heard Wilson's voice over the comms — which was a relief — but Tony was his priority. While Bucky was definitely fighting for the Alliance and his fellow team members, he would drop it all in a heartbeat to save Tony.

Frustratingly, his left arm didn't work. Bucky tried to move it but it refused to obey, slowing him down considerably.

It took him several nerve-wracking seconds before he finally found the switch that allowed the helmet to fold back. Tony's wide, brown eyes met his, and Bucky knew right away that something was wrong. There was too much pain in Tony's gaze, and when he opened his mouth to gasp for breath, nothing happened. Tony was pale — panic written all over his face — and, for some reason, he couldn't breathe.

"No, no, no," Bucky mumbled desperately, already searching for the hatches that would release the breastplate.

It had to be the arc reactor. Tony had told him that he would die if anything happened to it. Bucky wasn't sure _how_ that would kill Tony, but he knew it could. Since the thought of Tony dying — for whatever reason — was something Bucky didn't even want to think about, he'd never asked for details.

"Hatches?"

Bucky flinched at the sound of Romanoff's clipped voice, not having noticed her arrival. He knew she could help, though — it was difficult to unlock Tony's armor with just one hand — and he wordlessly showed her where to press. Together they managed to remove the breastplate, but Bucky had no idea what to do after that.

Since Bucky hadn't asked about the arc reactor, Tony had never told him how to fix it.

A choked noise from Tony made Bucky's gaze snap back to his face. Tony was blinking away tears, still struggling to breathe.

"It's okay," Bucky whispered, voice cracking. He reached out and stroked Tony's cheek, trying to ignore how badly his hand was trembling. "You'll be okay. Everything will be fine."

Their gazes locked and Bucky froze when he saw the look in Tony's eyes.

Everything wouldn't be fine — Tony knew it wouldn't be fine.

Winter had quieted and curled up at the back of Bucky's head, no doubt overwhelmed by the rush of emotion. Bucky could feel Winter's fear as if it were his own.

"He's going into cardiac arrest," Romanoff said.

"What?" Bucky croaked. "Cardiac arrest?"

Romanoff didn't reply. She had cut open the undersuit Tony wore, baring the arc reactor.

Bucky had seen it many times before, but never had the arc reactor looked as sinister as it did in that moment. Without the comforting glow, it was much more difficult to ignore the fact that the arc reactor was filling up a gaping hole in Tony's chest.

There was a roaring in Bucky's ears, and he helplessly looked back at Tony's face. This couldn't be happening. This was supposed to be a routine mission.

Bucky struggled to breathe. Tony kept staring up at him, and Bucky could see the moment his eyes began to lose focus — the moment Tony began to slip away from him.

A memory flashed through Bucky's mind, of the light slowly fading in a pair of beautiful, brown eyes. Tony had his mother's eyes. The memory wasn't his, Bucky knew that, but it was no less terrifying.

He didn't want to see that. He couldn't bear it.

"Please don't. Tony, don't." Bucky almost choked on the words, his throat thick and voice wobbly with grief. He turned to Romanoff. "Do something!" he pleaded, even if he knew it was unfair to place that on her shoulders.

"I'm trying!" she snapped back, the sharpness in her voice betraying how concerned she was. Bucky wasn't sure if he had ever seen her afraid before. Her hands were steady when she carefully unhooked the arc reactor, though, and it looked like she knew what she was doing. Bucky prayed she would be able to help Tony.

Bucky sucked in a deep breath, but it didn't help. His chest was too tight. He gently stroked Tony's cheek, but didn't know if Tony could even feel it anymore. His eyes were closed.

Tony might be gone already.

Bucky was so caught up in his own swirling emotions that it took him far too long to notice what Winter was doing. It happened so fast, the shift in Winter's presence so jarring that Bucky didn't have a chance to fight back.

Suddenly, Winter was just there, crowding him — pushing him back.

"Winter, no!" Bucky choked, trying to cling to control, however feebly. "Stop!"

But Winter was relentless — ruthless — and fiercer than Bucky had ever seen him. Fear of a different kind rushed through Bucky when he felt Winter's cold, hard fury swallow him whole. He'd seen Winter angry before, but never like this.

For the first time in months, Bucky was afraid of what might happen if Winter was let loose.

Bucky gritted his teeth and tried to push back, but he had lost too much ground already. It was all happening too fast; Bucky hadn't been prepared. Winter was overwhelming him, his grip slipping, and—

Winter opened his eyes with a low, vicious growl rumbling in his chest. He got to his feet, ignoring the alarmed shout from the Widow, and let his gaze sweep over the room until he found his target. Colonel Strucker was still next to his machine, a group of soldiers — two of them officers — trying to stop the Commander from pushing past their defenses.

A firm hand grabbed Winter's arm, a voice telling him to stop — the Falcon. Winter shrugged him off and charged forward without looking back.

He had his target in his sights.

Winter's left arm didn't work and Barnes had dropped the stun gun, but that didn't matter — Winter could make do. Without breaking his stride, Winter grabbed the nearest soldier and threw her at the group of hostiles coming towards him. They fell to the ground in a disorganized heap and Winter marched past, his gaze fixed on Colonel Strucker.

A swift backhand sent the next soldier flying, a well-aimed kick made the one after that crumple to the floor. There were voices shouting in Winter's ear, but he didn't bother listening to what they were saying — he didn't care. Barnes was clawing his way forward, desperately trying to push Winter back again, but he refused to give in.

White-hot rage was burning through him, and Winter could feel himself shaking from the force of it. He fought with a single-minded focus, tearing a path through the soldiers standing between him and his target.

By the time Colonel Strucker noticed, it was already too late. Winter was only a couple of feet away, and the Colonel's guards were still engaged with the Commander.

The Colonel's eyes widened with fear, and he fumbled for his gun. The first shot went wide, and Winter easily dodged the second. With a feral snarl and a sharp sweep with his arm, Winter knocked the gun out of the Colonel's hand. Barely a second later, his fingers had closed around the man's throat, lifting him clean off the ground.

Instincts told Winter not to do it — Colonel Strucker was an officer and he would be severely punished for hurting him — but, at that point, Winter didn't care about his own well-being.

Whatever pain HYDRA might cause him was nothing compared to the black, twisted thing currently residing in his chest. It was heavy — so heavy Winter could barely breathe around it — and he knew that the moment he succumbed to it, he'd lose everything. He was barely able to keep it at bay as it was.

He had to hurry.

Winter squeezed tighter, watching the growing panic in the Colonel's eyes. A sick feeling of satisfaction spread through Winter as he saw the man struggle, helplessly trying to pry Winter's fingers off.

The Colonel deserved to be in pain. He deserved to die.

"Winter, stand down!"

A distant part of him registered the command, but it only caused a brief moment of hesitation. Usually, Winter would have obeyed Commander Rogers, but not when it came to this. Winter had to do this. Someone had to pay.

Strong hands grabbed him, trying to loosen his grip around the Colonel's throat. Winter snarled in anger, but he couldn't retaliate with his left arm hanging useless at his side.

"Winter, stop!" the Commander ordered. "We need him alive!"

Winter didn't stop. If anything, he squeezed even harder, knowing he had to be quick — he had to kill the Colonel before the Commander intervened.

He needed to hurt the Colonel for what he did to Tony.

Winter choked when an arm wrapped around his throat from behind. The grip was tight enough that his instincts kicked in, forcing him to let go of the Colonel in favor of trying to break free. Winter thrashed when the grip didn't loosen, panic beginning to surface through the thick layer of anger. He had to make the Colonel pay.

Someone had to pay.

"Winter, stand down." The Commander's voice was tight with the strain of holding on to Winter, but there was still enough force behind his words to make Winter hesitate. "Don't make me use one of the bracelets on you."

The mention of the bracelet made Winter stiffen, his limbs locking in fear. He hated the bracelets.

Winter closed his eyes, tense and wary, but he could feel the anger beginning to drain out of him. It was so difficult to hold on to. The grief rose in its stead, thick and suffocating, making Winter's throat close up.

_Tony_.

Just the name was enough to break Winter's heart.

The Colonel was still alive — Winter could hear him coughing, struggling to breathe. Judging by the lack of gunfire, the HYDRA soldiers had all been defeated.

It was over.

There was a push at the back of Winter's head — Barnes trying to regain control — and in the face of his failure, Winter saw no reason to fight the shift anymore. He might as well let Barnes back out. If he did, Winter could curl up with his grief and hide from everything within the safety of Barnes' mind.

Winter let out a slow breath and relaxed against the Commander. Barnes rushed up to meet him, and between one beat and the next—

Bucky's eyes snapped open, breaths heaving.

"S-Steve," he croaked, clawing at the arm wrapped around his throat.

Steve immediately let go, but didn't back off, thankfully enough. When Bucky swayed, Steve was there to grab his arm, helping him stay on his feet.

"Bucky?"

A nod was all Bucky could manage. His head was pounding, his limbs weak from exhaustion and the tension that had been thrumming through Winter the few minutes he'd been in control. A complex mix of shame, fear, and grief trickled in from where Winter had curled up, hiding at the back of Bucky's head.

"Are you okay?" Steve asked, concern lacing his voice.

To be entirely honest, Bucky wasn't sure. Winter had never done that before — taken over by force, heedless of Bucky's wishes. Bucky suspected he should feel betrayed, but he was too busy trying to stop his knees from buckling. The shifts had happened much too quickly and far too violently, leaving Bucky weak and disoriented.

He pushed that aside, however, and looked up at Steve — as best he could. Bucky's head wouldn't stop spinning and his gaze was barely able to focus, black spots dancing across his vision.

"Tony?" he whispered, voice trembling. He was almost too afraid to ask, but he had to know. Winter had rushed off before Bucky found out what had happened — if Romanoff had been able to get the arc reactor going again.

Bucky had to know what had happened to Tony.

Steve opened his mouth to reply, but Bucky blacked out before he heard the actual words.

"How is he?" Steve's voice was low, as if not wanting to disturb the fragile peace found inside Tony's medbay room. The only other sounds were the soft hums from the medical equipment and Tony's quiet, rhythmic breaths.

Bucky didn't look up from the slow rise and fall of Tony's chest, his eyes resting on the bright, glowing circle at its centre. A part of him feared that the moment he turned his head, the light would flicker out and die again.

"The doctors said he'll make a full recovery," Bucky replied. He was dead tired — more so than after any other shift he and Winter had been through — but he was determined not to leave Tony's side.

Winter was clearly exhausted as well. He had spent the day following the mission curled up impossibly tight at the back of Bucky's head, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge Bucky's attempts to talk to him. Mainly because of the shame, Bucky suspected — he could tell that Winter wasn't proud of what he had done. Ever since they had switched back, there had been a steady thrum of guilt from Winter, though he obviously tried to muffle it.

"Romanoff saved his life," Bucky continued. "If she hadn't managed to restart the arc reactor..."

Bucky was infinitely grateful for what she had done — without her quick thinking, Tony would have died for sure — but he hadn't had the opportunity to thank her yet. As soon as he stopped fearing that Tony would die the moment he turned his back, Bucky would, though.

"How's your arm?" Steve asked, coming to stand next to Bucky's chair.

"Functional." Bucky shrugged. "It doesn't hurt anymore."

The other scientists had done what they could, but Tony was the expert — no one knew the arm as well as he did. Bucky could wait until Tony was well enough to fix the rest of the hiccups.

Steve cleared his throat. "JARVIS got cut off from us as soon as the suit stopped working, but he had logs of what Tony had found out before that. The machine apparently targeted a specific type of circuitry," he said. Steve still spoke more softly than usual, and Bucky was beginning to suspect that it was for _his_ benefit, not Tony's. "One frequently used by Stark Industries."

Bucky stiffened. That was a clever strategy, he had to admit. Since Tony was an expert at both weapons and technology, he'd been allowed to make alterations to everyone's equipment. HYDRA must have realized that, since it had been impossible to keep it a secret that Tony was helping the Alliance — his suit was far too well-known. By targeting his electronics, HYDRA had probably hoped to incapacitate the entire team.

As far as Bucky knew, Romanoff was the only one whose weapons Tony hadn't had the time to redesign yet.

"How come the comms still worked?" Bucky asked, gaze remaining fixed on Tony. In his experience, earpieces broke far too easily.

"They're brand new," Steve replied. "Some kind of stealth technology Tony is testing. They're not on the market yet, and use different components according to JARVIS. It made them resistant."

A silence settled between them. Bucky still felt a little raw from the events of the mission and didn't really want to talk about it — he couldn't find the words.

Tony would no doubt blame himself for what had happened — for making the team vulnerable by being too predictable. Thankfully, Wilson had gotten away with nothing more than a couple of bruises and a twisted ankle. Tony was the worst off by far. Even Bucky and Winter were in better shape, and that was saying something considering how wrung out Bucky felt.

He was less angry with Winter than he thought he would be — probably because he knew Winter had reacted out of protectiveness. The whole experience was still extremely jarring. All of them had been so sure that Winter would never be able to forcibly take control, but it turned out that if he wanted it badly enough, he could.

It came as no surprise that it was Winter's love for Tony that had made him strong enough to overpower Bucky. There had always been something disarmingly innocent about Winter and the way he showed affection, especially towards Tony — a kind of pure, unconditional devotion that Bucky would never be able to match.

Steve cleared his throat again, managing to sound stern rather than uncomfortable. "I need to speak with Winter."

For the first time since Steve had entered the room, Bucky looked away from Tony. He stared up at Steve, who still stood next to Bucky's chair, firm and unyielding.

"Don't give me that look," Steve said, frowning.

"What look?"

"He's not a child." Steve crossed his arms over his chest, apparently getting ready to dig in his heels and be difficult. "He has to take responsibility for his actions."

Bucky gritted his teeth but couldn't stop the wave of protectiveness he felt. Winter had been so quiet and subdued ever since the mission, and he wasn't sure if he wanted Steve to have access to him right now.

"He regrets what he did," Bucky said, hoping to stall.

"I figured as much."

While Steve and Winter hadn't talked often, Steve had put obvious effort into getting to know Winter better. Bucky was still worried. Steve wasn't known to be gentle when it concerned responsibility and duty, and Winter got very upset when he found out he'd failed someone he respected or cared about.

"I just—" Bucky began.

"He jeopardized the mission," Steve interrupted. "He almost killed a valuable informant. If I can't trust him to follow orders, you know I'm going to have to ban both of you from missions."

That was the tricky part with them sharing a body. If Winter became a liability, Bucky was one as well. If it turned out that Winter could forcibly gain control, Bucky would be seen as a ticking time bomb. Not by Steve and the other Avengers, perhaps — since they knew both Bucky and Winter, even if Winter had been pretty shy — but by the higher-ups. The Council could demand to have someone taken off the Avengers rooster if they proved untrustworthy.

For the first time in hours, Bucky felt a stir from Winter. It was another thick trickle of guilt, mixed together with an alarming spike of fear.

"I need to talk to him, Bucky," Steve said. "You know that."

Bucky gritted his teeth. "He doesn't want to."

"I bet he doesn't, but I still need to talk to him." Steve's voice softened. "I'm not going to yell at him, but I do need to hear his side of the story."

Bucky sighed and rand a hand through his hair. He knew Steve was right. In all honesty, the longer Winter hid, the more reluctant he'd get. The fact that they now knew that Tony would be okay — even if he hadn't woken up yet — should offer Winter some relief, at least.

"Fine," Bucky replied, ignoring the sharp lash of betrayal from Winter. He glared up at Steve. "But be kind. You know he's still new to this."

"I promise."

Despite Steve's reassurance, Winter struggled against the shift. That had never happened before. Winter had always been eager to be the one in control, but Bucky supposed it was quite different this time. First of all, Tony wouldn't be there to greet him, and anyone would probably try to flee from a lecture from the notorious Commander Steve Rogers.

Bucky felt horrible when he tugged Winter towards the surface. Winter wasn't kicking and screaming, but his desperate pleading was so much worse. For each inch Bucky gained, Winter became more frantic.

In many ways, this was a more painful shift than the ones during their mission. Those had been disorienting for Bucky, yes, but hearing Winter's distressed whines was outright torture. If there was one person who shouldn't have to feel fear and pain again, it was Winter.

Bucky kept pulling, despite feeling cruel and heartless, and eventually Winter was close enough to the surface that—

Winter squeezed his eyes shut, shoulders hitching. His breaths were uneven from the struggle against Barnes, his heart thrumming violently in his chest. He didn't want this. He wanted to crawl back into Barnes' mind and hide, but he knew he couldn't.

Barnes wouldn't let him.

There was a sound — a chair being placed next to his — and Winter stiffened. He had heard what the Commander said about not yelling, but that wasn't what Winter was afraid of.

He knew what happened to disobedient soldiers.

Winter should be stronger than this. He should accept his punishment like he had been trained to do, but the thought frightened him — he'd gotten used to not feeling pain all the time. He wasn't sure how he would react when submitted to it again. And, since he didn't know what kind of punishment Commander Rogers would favor, it was difficult to prepare himself for it.

There was a wave of concern from Barnes — alarmed and horrified — but Winter couldn't quite understand why.

"Winter, look at me." Commander Roger's voice was gentler than Winter had expected, but he couldn't help tensing all the same, bracing himself for whatever was to come.

He did as told, knowing that obedience might make superiors more lenient. Winter couldn't meet the Commander's gaze, though, and found himself staring at a point on his left shoulder instead.

Nothing happened for the first couple of seconds. The Commander had taken a seat on the chair next to Winter's, but he didn't speak. Winter wasn't sure what expression was on Commander Roger's face, but he didn't dare to look.

"Winter, I'm not going to hurt you," the Commander said, his voice calm. There was an underlying tension in his words, though, that Winter couldn't quite interpret. "Is that why you didn't want to talk to me? You thought I would hurt you?"

Winter swallowed, knowing he had to reply — he would be punished more severely if he didn't.

He nodded.

Again, a silence fell between them. Winter could see the tension in the Commander's shoulders grow. He tried to hold the fear at bay at the thought of the Commander's anger, but it was difficult — Commander Rogers was an intimidating man.

Barnes' feeble attempts at comfort him didn't offer much relief.

"I'm not going to hurt you," the Commander repeated. "Please, Winter, look at me."

It took effort, but Winter did, knowing that refusing would only hurt more. He met Commander Roger's gaze, and had to admit that he was confused by what he found there. Instead of anger and disapproval, there was anguish and concern. The Commander looked _worried_.

"This isn't HYDRA," the Commander said, holding Winter's gaze. "I would _never_ hurt you because you disobeyed me. Never."

Commander Rogers sounded very sincere. There was an urgency in his eyes that was almost desperate, as if the prospect of hurting Winter was unthinkable — and he needed Winter to see that too.

"Do you believe me?" he asked.

Winter's instincts told him it could be a trap, but the Commander had never lied to him before. Many things were different now that he and Barnes worked for the Alliance instead of HYDRA, and perhaps lack of punishment was another one of those differences. When Winter thought about it, he realized he'd never seen any of the other team members get punished, even when they had misbehaved during missions.

Eventually, Winter nodded, relief growing in his chest. Commander Rogers wouldn't hurt him.

"I'm sorry for not realizing that was what you were afraid of," the Commander said. He smiled, but it looked pained. "I thought you were just trying to avoid taking responsibility."

Winter shook his head. He knew what he had done and that it had been against orders — he wouldn't try to hide from that — but he could admit that the thought of being punished had made him curl up in fear.

"I'm sorry," Winter croaked. In his experience, superior officers didn't accept apologies, but Commander Rogers might. "I know I... did wrong." Not only had he jeopardized the mission, but he had hurt Barnes as well.

Even now, long after the mission was over, Winter couldn't explain exactly why he'd done it. He was as surprised by his actions as everyone else had been. To him, Barnes had always been the emotional one — _he_ was the one who acted irrationally based on feelings, not Winter — but when that all-consuming rage had grabbed hold of him, Winter hadn't known how to stop.

He hadn't _wanted_ to stop.

"You were angry, right?" Commander Rogers asked. "And scared."

Winter nodded, looking down at his hands. He knew Tony was lying asleep in the bed next to him, but he didn't dare to look at him yet. A part of him was afraid that Tony would be mad when he heard what Winter had done.

He felt a soothing wave of comfort from Barnes, which eased some of the tension Winter was carrying.

"I can understand that. We all are sometimes." The Commander gently touched Winter's arm, and it felt a lot less threatening than Winter had thought it would. He looked up, meeting Commander Roger's gaze. "But you need to learn how to control it. Something like this might happen again — Tony might get hurt again."

The mere thought made Winter's fists clench, his shoulders tensing. He wasn't sure what he would do if he lost Tony — he had already come too close.

"I need to know I can trust you, Winter."

Those words were heavier than Winter had expected, perhaps because he had never thought the Commander would _want_ to trust him. Winter was a parasite inhabiting Commander Rogers' best friend — he had to reason to like or trust him. Winter wanted him to, though.

He desperately wanted Commander Rogers to trust him.

"If you don't think you can handle a situation, it's better to leave it to Bucky, okay?"

Winter nodded.

"And if you get overwhelmed again, especially during a mission, you need to take a step back and calm down, not charge ahead." Commander Rogers' words were patient, his smile kind. "When you have people you care about, you'll feel everything more strongly. I can understand if that's new to you, but try to remember not to act rashly because of it."

Again, Winter nodded. "I will," he promised. He hadn't even known it might become a problem — emotions had never bothered him before, or caused situations like these.

He supposed that was another side-effect of having a free will.

Winter cleared his throat. "So Barnes isn't banned from missions?" Winter rarely took part in them, but it was comforting to know that Barnes did, so that they both could keep track of Tony.

"No, neither of you are," the Commander replied. Winter felt a wave of relief from Barnes. "But you need to promise me you won't do this again."

"I won't." Winter would try his very best. He wanted Commander Rogers to be able to trust him, and Barnes deserved better than to get into trouble because Winter had misbehaved.

"Good." The Commander smiled and placed a hand on Winter's shoulder, the weight of it very comforting — perhaps because Winter had seen Commander Rogers do it to Barnes so many times and knew it was a sign of support and care. "And remember, this isn't HYDRA. We won't hurt you if you disobey, but we are going to have to talk about it. Okay?"

Winter nodded and managed a smile of his own. Talking was fine — he could do that.

"Do you feel better now?" Commander Rogers asked after a couple of beats.

The show of concern made Winter's smile widen. "Yes, much better." He wasn't worried about the pain anymore — Commander Rogers wouldn't hurt him.

The Commander looked fond when he suddenly reached out and ruffled Winter's hair. The gesture was a little confusing — no one had ever done that to Winter before — but it felt good. Surprisingly so, in fact, causing a warm, pleased glow in Winter's stomach. Winter would have to ask Barnes or Tony for confirmation, but he almost dared to hope that Commander Rogers was beginning to like him.

When Barnes — who had been tense during the entirety of the conversation — finally relaxed, Winter knew so for sure.

Commander Rogers wasn't mad at him.

"So, Winter almost killed Strucker?" Tony sounded both surprised and confused, but that could probably be blamed on the pain medication he was on.

Bucky ran his thumb along Tony's bare arm, desperately needing the touch to reassure himself — and Winter — that Tony was okay. This wasn't the first time Tony had woken up since he'd been hospitalized, but he hadn't been coherent enough to have an actual conversation until now.

"Yeah, but Steve stopped him." Had Bucky been able to, he would have leaned forward and rested his head against Tony's chest — just to hear the comforting hum of the arc reactor — but Tony was too injured. Aside from the damage to the arc reactor, Tony also had bruises and two cracked ribs from the fall he'd taken.

For now, Bucky had to settle for sitting on the edge of Tony's bed and running his fingers along a part of Tony that _didn't_ hurt.

"How's Winter?"

That was a tricky question. After his conversation with Steve, Winter had been grateful to retreat to the background again, and while some of the guilt lingered, he appeared to be in a better mood. He was, as always, eager to see Tony.

"Better," Bucky replied. "But he's worried about something. You, probably."

A soft tickle of concern from Winter confirmed it.

Tony frowned, his head tilted to the side. "He knows I'm okay, right? I'm not actually dying." He paused for a beat. "Well, more than usual."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Not helping."

"Is he listening?" Tony asked.

Bucky nodded, lacing their fingers together.

"Okay, good." Tony looked admirably determined despite the paleness of his skin and tiredness in his eyes. This mission had taken a lot out of him. "Winter, sweetheart, I'm a little banged up, I admit, but I'll be fine. You don't have to worry."

Winter was obviously grateful for the reassurance, but didn't seem convinced.

Bucky smiled crookedly. "Neither of us are stupid enough to take your word for it, Tony. You are notoriously bad at takin' care of yourself. You don't even wear shoes."

Tony looked offended, but Bucky saw the smile twitching at the corner of his lips. "You need to let that go, Buckling."

"Never," Bucky replied. He raised their entwined hands to his lips and placed a kiss on Tony's knuckles. "Not when it comes to keeping you safe."

There was nothing Bucky wouldn't do for Tony.

His words caused a brief silence, but not of the uncomfortable kind. Bucky looked at Tony, seeing the rush of awe and gratitude on his face. Tony still wasn't used to the thought of someone loving him unconditionally, but Bucky was doing his best to rectify that.

"I love you." Tony's voice was soft, his words sincere. "Both of you."

Bucky smiled, reaching out with his other hand to run his fingers gently down Tony's cheek. "We love you too."

Winter hummed in agreement, relaxing more and more. The panic of seeing Tony fall out of the sky — and being faced with a dark arc reactor — would no doubt linger with Bucky and Winter for the rest of their lives, but they had all pulled through in the end. Tony would be fine.

"Try not to scare me like that again, okay?" Bucky knew that would be a difficult promise to keep, what with the war raging around them, but it never hurt to remind Tony that someone cared about his well-being.

One of these days, Tony might even take it to heart and be more careful.

"I can't make any promises, but I'll try." Tony's gaze was fond, and Bucky felt his heart give an excited little skip.

"You have no idea how much I love you," he whispered, cupping Tony's cheek.

Tony turned his head, leaning into the touch, his lips brushing against the metal of Bucky's palm. He didn't reply, but his small, hopeful smile said that maybe he did know after all — and felt the same.

Bucky leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on Tony's forehead, while Winter purred softly with contentment.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that little adventure! The scene with Steve and Winter was _heartbreaking_ to write — anything where Winter is afraid is — but I'm glad I did it. Winter needs to know that things are different with the Alliance and that Steve is a much too awesome person to ever want to hurt him.
> 
> Anyway! Two more bonus chapters remain, and I hope to get them written sooner rather than later. I'll do my best!
> 
> I want to give a huge thank you to [Snnaaft](https://snnaaft.tumblr.com/) for doing the beta reading. You are amazing <3


	4. The Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh. Hi? Remember me? This took a lot longer than I planned or wanted it to, but better late than never, I guess?
> 
> This bonus chapter is from a different POV and takes place between chapters 15 and 16 of the main story. So we're jumping back in time, just a little bit, but I'm pretty sure you're going to enjoy it. If nothing else because it's a whopping 10k. Have fun!

 

* * *

 

To say that Tony's life had been eventful the past couple of years would be an understatement. He'd been held captive, built a high-tech suit from a bunch of scraps, been betrayed by a close friend, and almost died more times than he could count. Then, after almost being poisoned by the very thing designed to keep him alive and dealing with the incompetent moron that was Justin Hammer, he'd decided that he had earned a break.

Fleeing, some would call it. Tactical retreat, Tony insisted.

He honestly hadn't expected his self-imposed exile on Knowhere to land him in the middle of a conflict of galactic proportions, but, at the same time, he probably shouldn't have been surprised. He had a tendency to attract trouble, it seemed.

Still, the past three weeks had somehow managed to be the most turbulent in Tony's recent memory — the birth of Iron Man included — and he knew, all too well, that this was only the beginning. There was a war on the horizon and still so much to be done.

Looked like his break was over.

Tony lazily scrolled through the medical journal on his tablet, feet propped up on the hospital bed next to him. There was a subtle ache in his limbs — his head in particular — but the doctor had cleared him as long as Tony promised to be mindful of his concussion and the bandaged wound on his forehead. The rest were just bruises and tired muscles from the battle two days prior. While Tony might be in pretty good shape, using any part of his heavy suit without JARVIS's help got exhausting in the long run.

Fortunately, sitting at Bucky and Winter's bedside didn't exactly involve any straining activities.

The dull hum of the medical equipment was a steady background noise, somehow managing to be both unsettling and reassuring. Tony wasn't particularly fond of medbays or hospitals, but he could certainly appreciate the work being done there. Bucky and Winter would have died without the swift response from the _Avenger_ 's medteam.

Like so many times in the past couple of hours, the thought caused a squeeze of fear and Tony had to focus to be able to breathe around it, his chest tight. He could have lost them. It would have been a heroic death for sure — saving the legendary Commander Rogers — but that wouldn't have been much of a consolation to Tony.

He would still have lost them.

After a harsh swallow, he forced himself to look up, finding that familiar face, peaceful and relaxed in sleep. The gunshot wounds had been treated and bandaged — the blood washed away — but Tony still felt that lingering taste of panic at the back of his throat. Never had he been as frightened as when he was kneeling next to Winter, blood oozing out between his fingers despite his desperate attempts to hold it back, his hands shaking and stained red.

Even if Bucky and Winter were out of danger now, letting go of the fear was much harder than Tony had expected. He was more attached than he ever would have anticipated — more than what was probably wise — and it felt surreal that he'd only known them for three weeks. How could you grow so fond of someone after such a short amount of time?

Well, some _ones_.

He couldn't deny that he cared for them both, however surprising that had been to realize. Liking Bucky was easy — he was kind, thoughtful, and almost infuriatingly protective — but the parasite had been another matter entirely. Curiosity had been Tony's first reaction, mixed with a healthy dose of wariness, but, when he actually got to meet Winter, he could admit that his impression changed quite quickly. Winter wasn't at all like Tony had expected and the sheer innocence he radiated — despite being an unwilling mass murderer who, amongst others, had killed Tony's own parents — was heartbreaking. Despite everything he had done and the horrors he had faced in HYDRA's hands, Winter still remained impossibly pure, not to mention instinctively kind and selfless.

It would forever be a mystery to Tony that someone so sweet had been created by something as evil as HYDRA. But, somehow, that just made Winter all the more lovable — all the more precious.

Tony's gaze wandered down to Bucky and Winter's chest, watching it rise and fall. Without meaning to, Tony felt his breathing sync with theirs, feeling some of the tension leave his tight shoulders.

They would be okay, physically, at least. The medteam had assured him as much. It had been critical there for a while, but the virus was resilient and offered them a healing rate that was frankly astounding. Even so, they were kept in a medically-induced coma for now, hoping to give them as much time as possible to rest and heal. Tony knew that was a good thing, but it still left a knot of disappointment in his chest.

He would have wanted to see them — either of them — before he left.

The doctor's reassurances weren't quite as comforting as it would have been to see Bucky and Winter wake up, but Tony couldn't wait that long. He had already lingered longer than he should have, selfishly wanting to spend as much time in their presence as he could, even if it just meant sitting quietly by their bedside.

He wasn't sure when he would be able to come back — when he'd see them again.

Tony swallowed, his gaze returning to his tablet without really seeing what was on the screen. He knew they would be upset with him for leaving — hurt, maybe even angry — but he couldn't keep postponing it. Too many people were depending on him.

Not that Bucky and Winter knew that. Tony had never gotten to the point of explaining that to them — they didn't know his name or the position he held. It had been better that way, at least at the start of their journey, but then, admittedly, Tony had found that he just didn't want to tell them. He didn't want anything to change or for them to treat him differently. He'd enjoyed being just a random citizen. Someone who could speak his mind without having to worry about the public's opinions, or curl up next to a lover and not worry about it being a scheme to exploit him for his money and political power.

It was a nice dream — one Tony found himself enjoying more than he should — even if he had always known it wouldn't last. Bucky and Winter would find out eventually, if nowhere else then from Agent Romanoff. She knew Tony's real identity and she had no reason to keep his secret.

So, since he had to leave before they woke up, Tony wouldn't be here when Bucky and Winter found out who he really was. A part of him was grateful for that, while another knew that the odds were greater that he'd lose them. He wouldn't get a chance to defend himself — explain that, despite all the shit he had done earlier in his life, he was trying to make amends. Not that there were any guarantees that that would make a difference. Tony was far from a good person and Bucky and Winter deserved better.

Perhaps he should just quietly disappear out of their lives and leave it at that?

Except Tony was far too selfish to do that — too drawn to them. He had been from the moment Bucky stepped inside his workshop three weeks ago. Tony might not have known about Winter at that time, but one look had been enough to convince Tony that this man, whoever he was, was someone worth getting to know. And, as he began to unravel the mystery that was Bucky Barnes, he certainly hadn't been disappointed.

The split personality had been a bit of a surprise, he could admit, but easy to accept in the grand scheme of things. What Tony hadn't expected was to develop entirely separate relationships with the two personalities. It made sense, of course, since Bucky and Winter were two entirely different people, but still made Tony's head spin, just a little, that he could be sexually involved with one but not the other. It hadn't even occurred to him to have sex with Winter. Partly because Bucky had revealed Winter's lack of interest in such things but, more importantly, because Winter was simply too innocent and, in some ways, almost like a child, still finding his place in the world.

Thankfully, there was too big a difference for Tony to confuse them — in the way they spoke, the way they carried themselves, and the look in their eyes. Bucky was softer, his smiles just shy of sad, even when he was happy, and his touches caring but confident. Winter, in comparison, was stilted, though no less sincere. He was hesitant and nervous, afraid of causing pain without meaning to, and there was always a breathtaking amount of longing in his gaze, as if he wanted nothing more than to reach out and pull Tony close to him, but was too afraid to do so.

Tony was pretty sure that he would be able to tell them apart with nothing more than a look, even if they switched without him knowing.

If that was even a thing they could do, of course. Winter was the last one to have been in control, but Bucky seemed to be the dominant personality, perhaps because he was the original one. There was no telling if they could switch places without the use of whatever drug HYDRA had injected them with. There were no guarantees that Winter would ever be in control again.

The thought of never speaking to Winter again caused a sharp stab of pain in Tony's chest.

While their initial meeting had been far from ideal, he'd grown really fond of Winter over the days that followed. Even if he might never say it out loud, Winter gave Tony hope. Never before had Tony seen someone so determined to be a better person, no matter what their past may look like.

Perhaps, if Tony had even half of Winter's conviction, he'd be able to find redemption as well.

After a deep sigh, Tony pushed the tablet onto the bedside table, his gaze returning to Bucky and Winter. He had to leave soon. The _Avenger_ was still recovering from the all-out battle that had broken out within its halls, and Tony knew it was best to leave before they managed to get all their systems back up and running again.

Technically, there was no need for him to sneak out. As the owner and overseer of four planets that were all members of the Alliance — and some that weren't — he was more than eligible for an armored escort back to Vordania Prime. He just didn't want one, much too used to solitude by then, even after the weeks spent with Bucky and Winter. Not to mention that such a thing wouldn't happen on _his_ schedule, but rather when the Alliance saw it most convenient.

Besides, Tony needed some time alone to decide what to say to Pepper. If he wasn't careful, she was likely to murder him for disappearing without a trace, just after telling her to freeze all of his assets. Tony also needed to figure out how to keep Rhodey from going all mother hen on him, if he happened to be planetside.

Tony straightened in his chair, hesitating briefly before reaching out to run his fingers along Bucky and Winter's arm. Their skin was comfortingly warm and Tony couldn't help but smile, even if he knew how frail it was.

He didn't know if he'd see them again and, even if he did, what they would think of him then.

He supposed he could take comfort in the fact that the last words he had spoken to Bucky had been soft and tender, for all that they were fueled by fear and the impending docking with the HYDRA ship, but Winter? Those had been laced with panic and Tony wanted desperately to know that he was okay, to see that careful, shy smile again — the one he knew was just for him. Winter didn't smile like that for anyone else.

Tony couldn't resist the temptation to slip his hand into theirs, limp and unresponsive as it was. He twined their fingers together, like he and Bucky had done countless times while they were lazily sprawled in bed together, or sitting side by side on the bridge of Bucky's ship.

He didn't want it to end. Tony didn't want to leave.

Yet the isolated existence that he and Bucky had built for themselves couldn't last. Tony had always known that, no matter how desperately he wanted it to. He wished he could just have the three of them return to Bucky's ship and not worry about anything else but what repairs to do next and whether or not the coffee would last them to the next supply station. He wished he could continue to live in that safe, warm bubble of theirs, content and carefree for possibly the first time in his life.

He couldn't, though. They both had responsibilities, himself more so than Bucky, and there was a war coming. Tony might have hidden away on Knowhere the past couple of months, but he couldn't hide from this — his conscience wouldn't allow it.

But he would treasure those days spent on Bucky's ship, especially since he had no idea if he would ever get the chance to make more memories with them. Those days were, without a doubt, some of the happiest of his life.

Tony scooted to the edge of his chair, reaching up to gently brush a lock of hair from Bucky and Winter's forehead. He allowed himself to linger, his fingertips tracing their brow, down along their cheek. His throat was beginning to close up, but he tried his best to ignore that.

He would miss them. He would do his best to return as quickly as possible, but there were no guarantees that they would want to see him when he did. By then, they would know him as Governor General Stark and Tony had no idea what either of them would think of him — what they would say once they found out how much blood was on his hands. The wild parties and irresponsible behavior of his youth were bad enough all on their own, but, even if they might have been able to forgive that, Tony had done so much worse.

Winter might have killed hundreds while in HYDRA's clutches, but the weapons Tony had built had obliterated planets — erased entire races from existence and wiped civilizations off the star maps. He might not have pushed the final buttons that detonated them, but he was certainly to blame for making the weapons available in the first place.

He would understand if Bucky and Winter didn't want anything to do with him after that. Winter in particular, considering how much he disliked killing and unnecessary deaths.

Knowing that, Tony couldn't quite tear himself away from their bedside. He had no intention of naming whatever emotions were churning inside him — he was too much of a coward for that — but he wasn't strong enough to leave yet.

Just a couple more minutes.

His thumb traced that beautiful jawline, his heart swelling with aching fondness. The time he had gotten with them wasn't nearly enough, but he would cherish every second. Bucky and Winter had given him so much, probably without even knowing it.

Tony was just about to lean in and kiss their forehead when he became aware of someone standing in the open doorway. He tensed, his eyes snapping to meet the calm, blue gaze of Commander Rogers. His expression was carefully blank, but the commander's posture suggested that he had been standing there for a while. Tony had been too wrapped up in his thoughts to notice.

Tony's spine straightened and he wanted to curse himself for being so careless. Not that Tony had any intention of hiding his and Bucky's relationship — he had done his absolute best to throw it in the commander's face, even. No, he was more worried about what expression had been on his face when he looked at Bucky and Winter.

Tony knew it had to have been more vulnerable than he ever wanted to appear in front of this man.

Even so, he refused to untangle his fingers from Bucky and Winter's, a fact that Commander Rogers no doubt noticed, his gaze flicking briefly to their entwined hands.

"Commander Rogers," Tony greeted, not quite able to hold back the chill in his tone. It was partly out of pride — Tony didn't like being taken by surprise — but, more so than that, it was lingering spite and an unfair amount of contempt.

This was the man his dad had wanted Tony to be — the one he had been compared to ever since he had taken his first breath — and, while that might not be Rogers' fault, Tony's hackles still rose at the mere sight of him. Tony could have gone his entire life without actually meeting the man, entirely content to just have him exist in the periphery, their paths never crossing.

Admittedly, while still young, Tony had _worshipped_ Commander Roger. His father had spoken of him with such fondness and respect, and it had seemed natural to look up to such a man. Commander Rogers was brave, honest, and devoted — all things Tony wanted to be. He'd grown out of that hero worship pretty quickly, however, once Howard had thrown his Rebirth test scores in his face one too many times. Somewhere along the way, Tony had even grown to hate Commander Rogers, just a little bit, without even having met the man.

That made seeing him now rather awkward, especially since it reminded Tony of the posters he'd had on his bedroom wall as a kid. Commander Rogers looked almost exactly the same, down to the firm, unrelenting stare and infuriatingly handsome face. Meeting your heroes, even ones you had discarded years ago, was not at all as rewarding as people made it out to be.

Commander Rogers raised an eyebrow, making it clear just what he thought about Tony's rather childish hostility. Never before had Tony felt so reprimanded by a simple look and he absolutely _hated_ it.

"Governor General Stark," Rogers replied, tone measured. Tony hadn't been sure if the commander recognized him, but he supposed that Agent Romanoff might have told him.

Tony tilted his chin up, teeth gritted against another uncalled for insult. Despite his personal grievances with the man — the majority of which were because of his dad, not anything Commander Rogers had done — Rogers was important to Bucky. Tony should probably attempt to be just a little bit less of an asshole to him.

There wasn't much Tony wanted to say to him, though, and therefore turned to the only safe subject he could think of — one they were both very invested in.

"They're stable, but still sleeping."

It was bordering on stating the obvious — Rogers had no doubt been informed of the medically-induced coma already — but it was better than any of the other things Tony might have blurted out.

"They need the rest," Rogers replied, taking a couple of steps into the room. His gaze rested on his best friend for a couple of seconds, then returned to Tony. "S.H.I.E.L.D. wants to talk to you."

Tony couldn't hold back an amused snort. "I bet they do."

"Can you blame them, Your Excellency?"

Tony really hadn't expected Rogers to address him with the proper honorific and everything, but he supposed that came naturally to a man who had served in the military for longer than Tony had been alive. Winter also seemed to rely heavily on titles when he referred to people.

Rogers sounded less reprimanding than Tony had expected, but it still took a lot of effort not to snap at the man. He made no attempt to hold back the scorn, though.

"I suppose I should be grateful that they're actually asking this time instead of sending a spy to evaluate me behind my back."

His smile was far too sharp to be even in the vicinity of friendly.

Commander Rogers, of course, remained infuriatingly unaffected. The man had a poker face that could rival Bucky's.

"Any information you can give us will help in the war against HYDRA," Commander Rogers replied, no doubt well aware that there were no arguments Tony could have against that — not without sounding petulant and selfish.

Rogers' sincerity was beginning to get on Tony's nerves. He had always hoped that would be nothing more than a rumor meant to increase his popularity, except it seemed that Commander Rogers might just be as good and righteous as everyone had been made to believe. Though, to be fair, Tony would much rather have Commander Rogers in charge when the war arrived than the politicians that ran the Alliance Council. Rogers had fought HYDRA once already and, no matter how annoying, the man was clearly good at his job.

Even so, Tony would be gone long before he had time to talk to S.H.I.E.L.D. — he would have to leave within the next couple of hours, five, at the most. He couldn't tell Commander Rogers that, though.

"Fine. I'll talk to them." And Tony would, just not right now. They could either send someone to interview him on Vordania Prime or simply wait until he returned to the _Avenger_ — if he ever did.

A silence settled between them, one Tony chose to spend looking at Bucky and Winter's sleeping face. He felt uncomfortable doing so with Commander Rogers in the room, but he knew he had no right to tell the man to leave. If anything, Tony was the one who was intruding. Rogers had lived years without Bucky, caught in that terrible uncertainty of not knowing whether he was alive, dead, or assimilated.

Tony couldn't even imagine what that had to feel like, or just how relieved Rogers must have been when he found him again. Though he supposed that meeting had been disappointing, considering that it was Winter he had been faced with first.

For the first time since the battle, Tony realized just how close Commander Rogers had come to losing Bucky again. While Winter's actions had been incredibly brave and selfless, he had forced Rogers to watch his best friend — only recently returned to him, years after having gone missing — get shot in front of him. A part of Tony resented the commander for how Winter had put himself and Bucky in danger to save him, but, when Tony thought about it, Rogers probably felt even worse. Tony sure would have, in his position.

He looked up at the commander, not surprised to see that his gaze had returned to Bucky and Winter. Rogers still looked admirably calm and collected, but there were noticeable cracks in his mask now — a tenseness in his posture and something old and aching in his eyes that Tony couldn't even name. There was no mistaking his worry or the lingering fear he still carried. Despite his general frustration with the man, Tony felt a clench of guilt.

Commander Rogers had suffered enough, without him making it worse.

"He'll be fine." Tony met Rogers' gaze, forcing his shoulders to lower and tone to soften. "They both will. They're strong."

The moment held for a couple of beats, tense and awkward, before Commander Rogers slowly exhaled, as if finally letting go of some of the stress he had to be carrying.

"I know," he replied. The smile on his lips was frail and didn't come anywhere near his eyes — so much like the ones Tony was used to seeing in the mirror that it was almost a little frightening. "But that doesn't stop me from worrying."

"From what I've heard, I don't think anything would."

Tony wasn't sure why he was trying to lighten the mood, but it felt wrong not to. As much as he hated having been compared to this man — the supposed pinnacle of human perfection — he wasn't cruel enough to want to see Rogers suffer.

There was a flicker of something that looked like hope in Commander Rogers' eyes, or joy, at the very least.

"He talked about me?"

Tony let out a snort, this one fonder than he had expected. "Of course he did."

He was surprised to see Rogers swallow, his expression a complex mix of relief and anguish that only made Tony feel worse about having antagonized him.

"I just..." To hear the great Commander Rogers hesitate was no doubt a rarity in itself, but the way his breath trembled made Tony uncomfortable. It didn't feel like he was close enough to the man to be seeing him this vulnerable. "When he left to infiltrate HYDRA, he was still struggling with his memories. I don't know how much he remembers. About me."

Rogers made an admirable attempt to hold it back, but Tony could still guess just how much agony he had to be in. To be forgotten like that had to be extremely painful.

Thankfully, this was something Tony could help fix, at least partially.

"A lot." Tony stroked over Bucky and Winter's hand, managing a smile. "I can't say if it's _everything_ , but it's a lot. The memories he has of you seem to be the clearest ones."

Rogers let out another shaky breath, which turned into a croaked chuckle.

"I admit I didn't expect to be having this conversation with the head of the Stark Conglomerate."

Tony shrugged, still smiling, albeit crookedly now.

"Sometimes, I'm just Tony." He looked up at the commander. "Just like there are times when you're just Steve, not Commander Rogers — super soldier and legendary hero from the Great War."

That earned him a wry smile, which made Tony feel surprisingly pleased.

"Yeah, I guess so." Commander Rogers let out a slow breath. "I forget that sometimes."

"We all do," Tony replied, voice low. "We all wear masks and armor, whether we want to acknowledge them or not."

"Even the head of the Stark Conglomerate?" Rogers' tone said he already knew the answer.

Tony held Commander Rogers' gaze. "Especially him."

He got a faint nod in reply, before the commander tilted his head to the side, a flash of curiosity on his face.

"How did you even manage to get pulled into this?"

An understandable question, definitely. Tony, much like Rogers, was famous to the point where regular people probably couldn't even comprehend that he existed — seeing him more as an intangible phenomenon rather than an actual man. Tony didn't know the actual odds of him finding himself in the middle of this conflict, of all the people in their vast galaxy, but he assumed they should have been pretty non-existent.

Had Tony been one to believe in fate, that might actually have gone to his head — made him think that he was much more important than he actually was.

Tony let out a soft huff, smiling fondly at Bucky and Winter. "To tell you the truth, I have no idea. I guess I'm just lucky?"

It was an evasive answer and they both knew it, but Commander Rogers seemed to accept it, for now.

Silence settled between them and Tony scratched absently on the small bandage taped to his forehead. A half-decent person would probably have offered to leave and give Rogers some time alone with his best friend, whether he was unconscious or not, but Tony was far too greedy and selfish to do that.

This was the last time he'd get to see them for stars knew how long.

To Tony's surprise, the commander was the one to excuse himself.

"I need to get back."

He didn't say to what, but, then again, he didn't have to. The long list of HYDRA spies within the Alliance had to be dealt with and, while Tony was not privy to the actual plans, he knew that Rogers was involved and that time was of the essence. The longer they waited, the bigger the risk that the spies had time to flee.

Not for the first time, Tony was grateful that he didn't have to sort out this particular mess — there was a big enough one waiting for him when he reached Vordania Prime.

"Keep an eye on him for me?" Rogers requested. Only a beat passed before he corrected himself. "Them. Keep an eye on them."

Tony smiled crookedly, having to admit that Rogers was, all things considered, not a terrible guy. Still annoying and just a little too self-righteous, but Tony could probably grow to like him, given enough time.

"Sure, I will," he replied, despite knowing it was a lie. He quickly pushed down the guilt; he couldn't postpone his departure much longer. Besides, it wasn't like Bucky and Winter would be left alone. They had Rogers and a whole team of doctors.

They would be fine, even without Tony.

Commander Rogers nodded and threw one last look at Bucky and Winter before turning to leave. He stopped in the doorway, however, lingering for another couple of seconds with his hand lightly touching the doorframe. After a slow exhale, he turned back, catching Tony's gaze.

"Thank you," he said.

Tony blinked.

"What for?" he asked, almost a little worried to hear the answer.

Rogers smiled with a hint of sadness, but there was something much brighter in his eyes — something that gave Tony an embarrassing urge to preen, knowing that he had put it there.

Hope.

That was what he saw in Commander Rogers' eyes.

"For bringing him back. When he insisted on leaving immediately after I had found him, I thought—" He shook his head, taking a brief second to let out another breath, this one closer to a chuckle. When he looked up at Tony, there was no mistaking the relief — the sheer and utter joy of having his best friend back. It made him look much younger than Tony knew him to be. "I don't know exactly what happened, but I can tell that you had a big part in it. In bringing him home."

Tony wasn't sure what to reply. Rogers seemed to take his silence as a reason to continue.

"So, from Steve to Tony, thank you."

It was almost a little infuriating just how _sincere_ Rogers was — Tony had been determined to hate him — but he supposed that he could understand now what Bucky saw in him. Despite the stick up his ass, Rogers was a very good friend.

"You're welcome."

Usually, Tony would have deflected and turned it into a joke, but the commander deserved better than that. Tony could be sincere back, if only just this once.

Rogers nodded, satisfied, and, with a lingering smile, turned and left. Tony watched him go and shook his head once the commander had disappeared out of view. He looked down at Bucky and Winter, chuckling softly.

"You win, Buckling," he said, gently squeezing the limp hand in his grasp. "I guess he's not _that_ bad."

There was no reply, of course, but Tony could settle for the steady rise and fall of Bucky and Winter's chest. He would have to leave soon, but he'd cherish the knowledge that they would be okay.

For now, that was all Tony could wish for.

Tony wouldn't say that it was easy to sneak himself and Bucky's ship off the _Avenger_ , but it was definitely easier than he thought it would be — or _should_ be, considering that this was the Alliance's flagship. In the remaining soldiers' defense, everyone was still reeling from the HYDRA outbreak and Tony seemed to be considered nothing more than a lost civilian, meaning that no one saw him as a threat or made any attempts to track his movements.

Still, as he activated the ship's stealth mode and subtly hacked the hangar doors to open for him, he felt a twinge of guilt. Partly for stealing Bucky's ship — he knew all too well how fond he was of it — but also for potentially breaking what little trust Commander Rogers might have in him. It was clear that Rogers had chosen not to reveal Tony's identity to everyone else, for which Tony was grateful, and he felt a little bad about sneaking out when the commander wasn't looking.

Unfreezing his assets took priority, however, as did fixing the bots and bringing JARVIS his memory drive.

By Tony's calculations, it would take him a little less than four days to reach Vordania Prime, and probably another two before he had managed to convince all the lawyers and officials that he hadn't been assimilated.

Tony was worried about the state of his empire. The financial losses were no doubt going to be astronomical but, more pressing than that, were the supply deliveries to the non-Alliance planets under his rule and the workers in his factories. So many people relied on his money to survive and every single one of them had been stuck in limbo for the past couple of weeks. It had been necessary considering the circumstances, but Tony knew he had to do everything he could to set things right as soon as possible.

He let out a slow breath as he flew out of the _Avenger_ , swiftly shutting the hangar doors again and sweeping up whatever tracks his hacking might have left behind. He doubted that the Alliance would send anyone after him, but he would prefer as big a head start as he could get.

Tony set the course before looking out at the wide expanse of space in front of him, stars and nebulas bright against the sea of dark blue. Inevitably, his thoughts were drawn to Bucky and Winter, still lying unconscious in their hospital bed. Tony wished he could have stayed — the longing had lodged like a lump in his throat — but he couldn't be that selfish. He had people who depended on him — people who needed him more than Bucky and Winter did. Tony had to prioritize.

He would make sure to return as soon as possible, however, and, if he was lucky, they would still be talking to him when he did.

The ship was much too quiet without Bucky and Winter there to keep him company, not to mention cold. Tony had never really reflected on how _warm_ Bucky was, until he found himself sleeping alone in their cabin, huddling under the blankets. The sheets still smelled like them, which was a small consolation, but Tony had grown much too used to having someone beside him when he slept. He felt vulnerable without the comforting weight of an arm slung across his waist and the soothing thump of a heartbeat against his ear.

The days were even worse. Even if Tony did his best to stay busy, they left him feeling bored and restless.

Before he left, Tony had stolen a hard drive that was compatible with Butterfingers' system, to replace the one he had used as a backup for the stolen HYDRA information. Usually, separating and transferring Butterfingers' code from U's drive onto the new one wouldn't have taken more than a couple of hours, but that was with JARVIS's assistance and a much more powerful processor than the ship's computer had to offer.

Still, Tony didn't mind. It gave him something to do — kept his mind off what was ahead — and made him feel just a little less lost. Wading through computer code had always put him at ease.

The first day passed slowly, but the second was a little easier, mostly because Tony finally managed to connect to JARVIS again for the first time in over two weeks. Tony hadn't been sure how long it would take before he was within range, but he had tried to help it along by sending out a subtle coded transmission for JARVIS to latch on to. In all likelihood, JARVIS had been looking for Tony ever since he lost contact with his twin in Knowhere.

Hearing the cheerful chirp of an incoming long-distance transmission made Tony's heart skip a beat. He was seated in his chair on the bridge when it came through, working on cleaning up U's code, but quickly abandoned that in favor of fumbling to accept the call.

"Good day, Sir," JARVIS greeted him. "It is very good to hear from you again. Ms. Potts and I were beginning to fear the worst."

Tony sucked in a trembling breath, not quite able to swallow down the surge or relief at hearing JARVIS's voice again. This JARVIS had gaps in his memories, sure, but Tony wasn't picky. He'd missed JARVIS something terrible and, in his darkest moments — when the absence of JARVIS's presence grew too suffocating — had even begun to fear that he had killed him for real back on Knowhere.

It was an unreasonable fear, but difficult to curb nonetheless.

"Hi there, buddy." If Tony's voice happened to be trembling, then who could blame him? JARVIS was his constant companion — more so than any other friend — and the weeks without him had been harder than Tony would like to admit. "Did you miss me?"

"Immensely," JARVIS replied, in his usual deadpan manner, making it difficult to tell if he was being serious or sarcastic. Tony smiled, though, his heart swelling.

"Yeah, I missed you too."

Some would no doubt consider him pathetic for just how attached he was to his AI but, then again, no one else had an AI quite like JARVIS — they couldn't possibly know what it was like.

"Sir, what is your situation?" There was an unmistakable undercurrent of concern in JARVIS's voice. "Do you require assistance?"

Tony braced his elbows against the edge of the console in front of him, running a hand through his hair.

"No, I'm fine. I'm on my way back to Vordania Prime, in fact, and will deal with everything once I get there. I just..." He cleared his throat, feeling both nervous and a little embarrassed. "I just wanted to hear your voice."

There was a brief silence before JARVIS spoke again, this time softer.

"I assume that the destruction of my servers in Knowhere was not a choice you made lightly?"

Tony let out a huff, his fingers clenching around his hair, holding on as he pushed down the sudden lash of grief. There was no need to mourn anymore — he had JARVIS again and would sync the memories from the Knowhere server, filling in the gaps for this remaining JARVIS.

"No, it was... difficult," Tony mumbled, closing his eyes. Just thinking about it hurt. Tony let out a slow breath, trying to stick to the good news. "But I've got a memory drive with your name on it, so, as soon as I get to Vordania Prime, I'll catch you up, don't worry."

"Thank you, Sir, that is most appreciated." The warmth in JARVIS's voice made Tony relax, if only just a little. "When is your estimated time of arrival, Sir?"

Tony straightened and threw an eye on the readings on the computer.

"In about thirty hours, give or take," he replied.

"Shall I alert Ms. Potts?"

The question, while expected, still forced Tony to swallow. He hadn't seen Pepper in ages. Their last holo call had been about a month before Bucky came bursting into his life. Tony could only imagine how worried Pepper had been the past weeks, considering the message he had sent her from Knowhere — the one asking her to freeze his assets because HYDRA was after him.

That would terrify anyone.

"Yeah." Tony had to clear his throat, fiddling with the sleeve of his hoodie. "And Rhodey and Happy, too. Let them know I'm coming home."

"It will be my pleasure, Sir."

That lured a smile out of Tony, be it a small one. He longed to see them — not to mention go back to Vordania Prime for the first time in _months_ — but he was also all too aware of what he had left behind on the _Avenger_.

Tony sighed and leaned back in his chair, looking out at the stars in front of him.

"You think you can keep me company until I get there?" he asked, rather unnecessarily. There was only one reply that JARVIS could give.

"Of course, Sir."

The tension in Tony's shoulders eased, his smile more genuine this time. Maintaining the connection would no doubt slow down the ship's computer, but it would be worth it to chase away the loneliness Tony could feel creeping up on him.

"Thanks, J." His voice was soft, perhaps even a little desperate, but he knew JARVIS wouldn't hold that against him. "For being there for me."

"Always, Sir."

As Tony had expected, seeing Pepper again was painful. Meeting her on the landing pad to Stark Tower, her hair windswept and eyes red-rimmed, left Tony with a strong feeling of déjà vu. This was what it had looked like when he had returned after his imprisonment and the creation of Iron Man, right down to the look of relief on Pepper's face when she could confirm, with her own eyes, that he was okay.

Considering just how bad things could have gone, he didn't blame her. He was, however, thankful for the lack of suspicion in her eyes, even if she would have been more than entitled to it. She only had JARVIS's word that Tony hadn't been assimilated.

Then again, he supposed the grin that spread on his lips at the sight of her wasn't something a HYDRA soldier would be able to fake.

"I have got to stop doing this to you." Tony made sure to keep his tone light. "But, I swear, Pep, I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

Pepper's smile trembled, but she looked happy, despite the torrent of emotions clearly running through her.

"You never do, Tony," she replied.

There was a split second of hesitation before she moved in to hug him, their relationship somewhat awkward since the events with Justin Hammer and Ivan Vanko. Tony had almost kissed her back then, but had instead ended up fleeing to Knowhere. Whatever had been between them seemed to have fizzled out in his absence and, considering how his relationship had evolved with Bucky, that was probably for the best.

He still cherished the hug she gave him, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close, reveling in the sweet scent of her perfume.

It was good to be home.

Pepper pulled back, the flash of wistfulness in her eyes telling Tony that she, too, could tell that whatever they could have been was no longer going to happen. All things considered, she should consider herself lucky — she deserved so much better than Tony. As did Bucky, but he wasn't foolish enough to say that to either of them.

"Rhodey?" he asked instead, admittedly a little disappointed that his best friend wasn't there to greet him. That might be selfish of him, but Tony had never claimed to be anything else.

"He'll be here tomorrow," Pepper replied. "He pulled some strings to cut his mission short, but that's the fastest he can get here."

Tony had no idea what he had done to deserve such loyal and wonderful friends, especially since he was a pretty shit friend in return. He would have to do his best to make it up to them.

"It's good to see you." Pepper reached up and stroked Tony's cheek, as if to make sure that he was actually there. Her smile was amused, if still tinged with worry — perhaps because of the small bandage on his forehead. Pepper's eyes kept being drawn to it. "In person, for once, and not just over holo transmissions."

"I should have visited," Tony admitted, knowing he had made Pepper's life much harder by relocating to Knowhere without warning. He had numerous responsibilities and Pepper had been forced to shoulder an unfair amount of them while Tony tried to regain his equilibrium during his self-imposed exile.

Tony was here to put an end to that, though. He had to stop running and take back control of his empire, starting with unfreezing his assets.

"As much as I'm enjoying this little reunion of ours," Tony began, keeping his tone soft, "I think we have more pressing matters to attend to."

Pepper let out a slow exhale before nodding. "I have contacted your lawyers and they are awaiting you call. With some luck, we will have this sorted out by noon tomorrow."

Tony grinned. "Whatever would I do without you, Ms. Potts?"

As he had hoped, that earned him a laugh.

"Let's pray we never find out, Mr. Stark," she replied, the joy on her face making that tight knot in Tony's chest unravel. He had put her through hell — for which he was going to make sure to repay her — but at least she was still able to smile.

"Indeed." He gestured toward the entrance to Stark Tower. "Shall we?"

Pepper gave him a fond smile before nodding, turning to head back inside. Tony followed, tucking his hands into the pocket of his hoodie.

"I have to ask, though," Pepper began, pausing to wait for permission.

"Hm?" Tony looked at her, delighted but a little surprised to see her holding back a laugh.

"What are you _wearing_?"

Tony looked down at his clothes — the over-sized hoodie and ill-fitting, folded-up pants — and felt a squeeze of both fondness and breathtaking longing. He hadn't even reflected on the fact that he'd kept dressing himself in Bucky and Winter's clothes, not that there had been anything else on the ship. Plus, Tony had grown very fond of the hoodie.

He would have to stop wearing them now, he realized — he couldn't meet his lawyers dressed like this. They would think he really had been assimilated if he showed up in anything less than a five-thousand-unit suit.

The thought made his chest feel tight.

Tony swallowed and looked up at Pepper, knowing his smile was a little frail around the edges. This was a harsh reminder that the sheltered little bubble of existence he, Bucky, and Winter had shared the past couple of weeks was bursting. Tony had to return to the real world.

"It's a long story," he replied. He would still keep the clothes, tucked away in his closet to be taken out when he needed them — craved the comfort they offered — but he couldn't wear them as often. He was more upset about that than he thought he would be, perhaps because the clothes were one of the few solid connections he had to Bucky and Winter. Tony hoped his despair didn't show on his face. "I'll tell you when Rhodey and Happy get here."

Pepper's expression softened and her tone was gentle when she replied with a simple, "Okay."

Tony wasn't entirely sure how she would react when hearing that he had hooked up with what was essentially the Winter Soldier — though not quite — but he decided that was a problem for later. For now, he had to focus on his lawyers and getting his massive empire back up and running.

After _that_ , he might worry about what his friends would say about his choice in bed partners.

The next couple of days passed in a blur or meetings, long, deep conversations with his friends, and time spent in his workshop taking care of his bots and JARVIS. Tony barely managed to keep track of when to eat, let alone sleep, and it was only thanks to Rhodey's firm hand that he did either.

Seeing Rhodey again had, if possible, been even worse than facing Pepper. The moment Rhodey's arms had wrapped around Tony in a hug — which they did without hesitation or question — Tony had felt something within him crack.

Suddenly, all the strain and heartache from the past couple of weeks — blowing up his workshop, being chased across the galaxy under the threat of death and assimilation, the HYDRA outbreak on the _Avenger_ — came rushing to the forefront, all at once. He didn't even know how much of it he had been holding back until he felt himself crumble under the weight. Without wanting or meaning to, Tony's breath hitched, quickly followed by tears.

Rhodey didn't say a word and simply held him as Tony cried, offering the quiet and unflinching support that he was so good at. For the first time since leaving the _Avenger_ — perhaps even since blowing up his workshop — Tony felt _safe_. It wasn't that he had felt unsafe with Bucky and Winter — quite the opposite — but their journey had been filled with dangers and pitfalls and it was only now that Tony felt that he could relax.

There was still a war brewing but, for now, with his oldest friend there to support him, he was safe.

Perhaps it was understandable if Rhodey hovered a little closer than usual after that and, in all honesty, Tony didn't mind. He had missed Rhodey while he was in Knowhere — missed them all — and was quite greedy for their company now that he had it again.

If nothing else, their presence was a comfort when Tony had to go through numerous tests and examinations before he was declared non-assimilated. He understood why — no one wanted his fortune to slip into the wrong hands — but, all the same, he was both frustrated and exhausted by the time they were done.

The saving grace was knowing that people across the galaxy — the people under his care — could get their lives back in order. They might still require a little help, but Tony was working on that.

"Pepper, good," Tony greeted when the elevator doors opened and Pepper stepped inside the living room. He was sitting cross-legged on the couch, his tablet in his lap.

"JARVIS said you wanted to see me?"

She gracefully took a seat in one of the nearby armchairs. If she thought it odd that Tony had changed from his fancy suit to the huge, ugly hoodie again, she didn't mention it. He doubted she ever would, now that she knew where it came from.

Truth be told, Tony wasn't sure what answer he would give her, even if she _had_ asked. It had just felt right to slip on the hoodie when he came home from the last tedious meeting and knew he didn't have to be anywhere else for the rest of the evening. There was still work to be done, sure, but he could wear whatever he wanted while doing that. And, if he preferred something warm and comfortable, who could blame him?

"JARVIS is sending you a list." Tony looked up at her, watching as she pulled out her tablet from her pile of neat folders. "I want you to make sure these money transfers go through."

Pepper gave him a suspicious look before turning her focus to her screen, her eyes widening within seconds.

"Tony, this—"

"Is only fair." He averted his gaze, trying to ignore the unsettling roll in his stomach. He wasn't sure why he felt so nervous, but he did. "I had to limit it to the workers with the lowest salaries, but they need some kind of compensation for the weeks they've been without work."

Tony knew all too well that some people barely scraped by without their paychecks and they had been without one for several weeks. Paying them all retroactively might not help — the damage could already be done — but it was something. Tony _had_ to do something.

"We're working on compensation for the workers," Pepper began, "but the companies have to agree—"

"That's not good enough," Tony interrupted. He swallowed tightly and met her gaze. "We have protocols and safeguards for things like these, I know — how to compensate my employees in the event of accidents and unforeseen complications — but the amount of bureaucracy we'd have to go through before those people even saw a single unit, if they _ever_ did, is..." He cut himself off and shook his head. "That's simply unacceptable."

"We can't complete any money transfers — especially of this magnitude — without the council's approval."

The look on her face said that she _wanted_ to, that she knew that Tony was doing the right thing, but that their hands were tied. While Tony might own entire planets, he was not a despot — there were people hired with the sole purpose of making sure that he didn't make rash decisions that might negatively affect the people under his charge.

It was frustrating when those very same people stopped him from doing something good.

"Then use my private funds," Tony replied. Pepper's eyes widened in surprise. "JARVIS and I have done the math. It'll put a dent in my net worth, sure, but it won't ruin me. And, before you say anything, I know it will take years before I earn it all back, but I can't just abandon people I'm responsible for. Entire _families_ —"

It was Pepper's turn to interrupt.

"I know, Tony. I understand." She was smiling now, the look on her face making Tony feel a little embarrassed. Awe was not something he was used to seeing directed at him — not like this, at least. "I'll get it done," she promised fondly.

Tony nodded stiffly, looking back down at his tablet to ease his own discomfort somewhat. He was just trying to do the right thing — that shouldn't be such a big deal.

He quickly changed the subject.

"And we need to start working through all the contracts and HYDRA-proof them. We should specify that, should I go MIA again, my assets can't be sold or repurposed, but the businesses will keep running."

"I will speak to your lawyers and set up a meeting," Pepper replied, making a note on her tablet.

"Good." Tony nodded. "And contact the officials on Gha'an, Amerath, and Vesna 3 and let them know that we need to discuss their defenses. They're not Alliance members and will need help from us to strengthen their military. I don't want them vulnerable if this turns into a repeat of the Great War."

HYDRA was known for ransacking planets in search of soldiers and Tony would rather die than let them get their hands on one of his.

"Also—"

Tony cut himself off when a hand settled on his arm, making him flinch. His gaze snapped up to meet Pepper's, not even having noticed her moving from her armchair. She took a seat next to him, giving his arm a gentle squeeze.

"Breathe, Tony," she said.

Tony frowned. "I _am_. I just have to fix—"

"And you will." She smiled. "We'll fix this, I promise. Just breathe first."

It was an odd suggestion, but Tony did as told. After his third breath, he could feel his shoulders lowering — he'd been so tense he'd almost been shaking — so perhaps Pepper was on to something. Only after Tony was taking deep, calm breaths did Pepper allow him to finish his next request.

"Let the Alliance know that Stark Industries wants to aid them in the battle against HYDRA."

That company was all his, at least, meaning that he could make whatever promises he wished. The board might argue, but Tony held the majority of the shares.

Pepper looked concerned. "Tony, you're not going to..." She trailed off, but Tony could guess what she had intended to say.

"Stars, no." He shook his head. "I'm not building any new weapons, or even old ones. But I _can_ offer equipment and supplies. The Alliance will no doubt find use for our stealth technology."

_Maybe_ Tony also hoped that would give him a reason to visit the _Avenger_. Right now, there was no time — there was far too much to be done — but, perhaps, if he disguised it as official business, he could go back. He so desperately wanted to see Bucky and Winter again, even if the thought scared him in equal measure.

The look on Pepper's face said that she saw through him, but was kind enough not to mention it.

"I will contact the Alliance Council," she promised.

Tony nodded. "Thank you."

"And Tony?"

He met Pepper's gaze, still not quite sure what to do with that soft look of fondness she was displaying. As if he was doing something out of the ordinary when, really, he was just doing whatever he could to help keep the galaxy on an even keel.

"I'm proud of you."

Tony's throat tightened. He might deny it all he wanted, but he knew, deep down, that he was always looking for approval. It had started with his dad, wanting to be the perfect son and make him proud, but, even now, that was a difficult habit to shake. Tony suspected that he would be yearning for approval until the day he died, especially from the people he respected and cared about.

Somehow, he managed to smile.

"I try," he replied.

Pepper gave his arm another squeeze.

"I know," she said. "And that's why we love you."

There wasn't much Tony could say to that and, thankfully, it didn't seem like he had to.

Tony lost track of time, so caught up in his preparations for the coming war that he barely even noticed the passing days. Before he knew it, almost two weeks had gone by. In all honesty, Tony might have thrown himself into the work with more determination than usual, which was saying something.

It gave him less time to think about Bucky and Winter.

It wasn't that he didn't miss them — he did, so much it made him breathless sometimes — but the longing soon grew into apprehension. The longer he stayed on Vordania Prime, the more his doubts had time to settle. What if they didn't want to see him again? He had stolen Bucky's ship and left without a word and, even if Tony liked to live in denial, they must have found out who he was by then. Commander Rogers must have told them.

No matter how much Tony longed for the two of them, he wasn't sure if Bucky and Winter felt the same. And, to his immense shame, he had been too cowardly to actively try to find his way back to them. Once he saw them again, he could no longer live in blissful ignorance — he would find out if everything they had shared could actually survive his history and reputation.

In the end, the choice was taken from him by the very decisions he, himself, had made.

Even if the Alliance was clearly suspicious and not at all pleased that Tony knew about the coming war — something they had to be keeping under tight wraps — they gratefully accepted Stark Industries' offer of aid. A meeting to discuss a contract was suggested and, naturally, Commander Rogers was one of those recommended to attend. Not only was he one of the highest ranking members in the Alliance's military, but also someone who had already fought and won one war against HYDRA.

Pepper was the one who decided that they would go to Commander Rogers rather than handle the negotiations over holo transmissions. Tony would have suggested it on his own, but she beat him to it, possibly to save him the agony. Admittedly, the thought of going back to the _Avenger_ made him extremely nervous. But, no matter how afraid he was, he wouldn't say no to a chance to see Bucky and Winter again, especially if it was to be his last.

That didn't stop him from fidgeting when the day for their departure came, which it did much too quickly. It would still take them two days to travel to the _Avenger_ 's current location, but that was hardly enough time to prepare him to face Bucky and Winter again. Tony had no idea what to say to them — how to explain himself.

"It will be fine," Pepper assured, squeezing his hand as they stood on the Stark Tower landing pad.

Pepper would travel with Tony's private ship while Tony flew Bucky's. It was high time he returned it, no matter how bittersweet it would be. Tony had so many good memories involving that ship and if he could keep it, he would.

"That's easy for you to say," Tony replied sullenly. "You only have to negotiate a business contract for the next intergalactic war."

Pepper was much too dignified to roll her eyes, but her smile, though fond, showed how silly she thought Tony was being.

"They'll forgive you," she said.

Despite how strange it had to be for her, she had accepted the whole situation with Bucky and Winter with surprising ease. Well, the split personality was clearly still a little confusing to her, but it would be to most people.

"How do you know that?" Tony asked, mostly to be annoying, but he couldn't deny that it was a real concern of his.

"Because, if what you've told me about them is true, they're far too compassionate not to."

Tony couldn't exactly argue against that — not without insulting Bucky and Winter. So, he had to settle for a stiff nod, trying desperately to cling to what little bravery he might have left.

Pepper reached out, cupping his cheek with a fond smile on her lips.

"You can do this, Tony."

He forced himself to exhale and nod once more. He could do this. It might terrify him, but he would never forgive himself if he wasted the opportunity to see Bucky and Winter again. He would simply have to go and hope for the best.

And, if nothing else, he'd get a chance to say a proper goodbye.

Tony straightened and offered Pepper a faint but grateful smile.

"Okay," he said, with finality. "Let's go."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Shi_Toyu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shi_Toyu) was kind enough to do the betaing — thank you again, my dear — and this here is my [Tumblr](http://amethystinawrites.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Thank you so much for reading <3


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